I  I 


JOHN  THE  FOOL 


'•• 


"1   did  not  desire  you  to   die" 


JOHN  THE  FOOL 

An  American  Romance 


By 
CHARLES  TENNEY  JACKSON 

Author  of  The  Day  of  Souls,  My  Brother's  Keeper 
The  Midlanders,  etc. 


Illustrated  by 
HAZEL  ROBERTS 


INDIANAPOLIS 

THE  BOBBS-MERRILL  COMPANY 
PUBLISHERS 


COPYRIGHT  1914 
THE  BOBBS-MERRILL  COMPANY 


PRESS  or 

BRAUNWOHTH   &  CO. 

BOOKBINDERS    ANO    PRINTERS 

BROOKLYN,     N.    V. 


"Make  me  over  in  the  morning 

From  the  rag-bag  of  the  world  ! 
Scraps  of  dream  and  duds  of  daring, 

Home-brought  stuff  from  far  sea-faring, 
Faded  colors  once  so  flaring, 

Shreds  of  banners  long  since  furled  ! 
Hues  of  ash  and  glints  of  glory, 

From  the  rag-bag  of  the  world !  " 


From  Songs  of  Vagabondla 


2136486 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I  THE  WOOD  SAINT     .......  1 

II  THE  MAN'S  SIZE  JOB          , 11 

III  ISLE  BONNE 32 

IV  THE  BARON ,        .  55 

V  THE  HONEY  HUNTERS 78 

VI  THE  WAY  TO  BEGIN          , 105 

VII  THE  EDUCATION  OF  LAURE 117 

VIII  His  LAST  MARQUISE 129 

IX  A  BALL  AND  A  BETRAYAL 145 

X  A  GOWN — AND  DYNAMITE         .....  162 

XI  THE  HATE  OF  MEN 176 

XII  THE  NAPOLEON  OF  THE  NINE  BEERS    ....  192 

XIII  THE  OLD  PIRATE  HEAD     .....  205 

XIV  THE  TURN  OF  FORTUNE 224 

XV  THE  GUARDIAN  OF  THE  MONSTER       .         .         ,         .238 

XVI  THE  BIG  HIDE-UP 258 

XVII  BREED  OF  THE  BUCCANEERS 282 

XVIII  IN  THE  FACE  OF  FAILURE 291 

XIX  THE  KING  o'  SPAIN  SURRENDERS                                   .  307 


JOHN  THE  FOOL 


JOHN  THE  FOOL 

CHAPTER  I 


* '  R  L  °  Wy  San  Anton~*  '•" 

^^  It  seemed  an  echo — high  and  clear — out  of 
the  flooded  forest  aisles.  Then  laughter,  mocking 
our  little  captain's  cackle.  Allesjandro  turned  with 
his  hand  on  the  mast  of  his  red-sailed  lugger;  he 
grinned  at  us  about  the  limp  canvas  and  then  re 
sumed  his  trot  along  the  gunwale,  wiping  the  sweat 
from  his  grizzled  brow. 

Laughter  it  was,  and  mocking  us  again,  as  we 
sat  in  the  Good  Child,  which  lay  in  the  slowly 
floating  bloom  of  hyacinths,  for  across  this  purple 
garden  the  white  shell  beach  of  Isle  Bonne  seemed 
no  nearer  than  an  hour  ago.  The  south  coast  sun 
was  April-warm,  and  the  gray  forest  wall  invited 
with  its  shadows  as  we  drifted  in  that  morning 
calm. 

"Blow,  San  Anton — e!" 

And  again  the  three  of  us  in  Allesjandro's  lugger 
i 


2  JOHN   THE    FOOL 

stared   helplessly   into  the   cypress   jungle — where 
was  she? 

For  of  all  places — as  my  young  friend,  Redfield, 
put  it  when  he  arose  astride  his  suit-case  in  the 
stern  of  the  Good  Child — "of  all  places  that  one 
would  expect  to  find  a  girl,  and  laughing  at  us,  it's 
the  limit!" 

Virgil  Williams  nodded  to  me,  with  patient  deli 
cacy,  ignoring  the  other  man,  as  he  had  done  these 
four  days  now  when  their  hatred  deepened. 

"I  told  you,  Doctor  Dick,"  he  put  in  gently. 
"That's  the  girl,  and  that's  the  island.  It's  the 
last  of  the  sweet  lands  and  beyond  it  run  the 
salt  tides.  The  sweet  land  is  what  I'm  fightin'  fo' 
— against  the  Gulf  of  Mexico,  and  a  girl !"  And  the 
gaunt  Texan,  with  the  eyes  of  a  dreamer,  looked 
wistfully  past  the  white  shell  beach  to  the  wilder 
ness:  "Only,  Doctor  Dick,  somehow,  I  cain't  ex 
plain  all  my  problems  to  the  land  company." 

As  a  director  of  the  Prairie  Meadows  Land  and 
Development  Company  I  straightway  guessed  as 
much.  Even  though  I  couldn't  see  her,  because  my 
eyes  were  now  aching  with  all  the  colors  under  that 
Louisiana  sky.  Allesjandro,  dragging  his  running 
pole  along  his  pink  and  blue  and  yellow  boat;  pink 
and  blue  and  yellow  it  was  under  its  red  sail,  and 


THE    WOOD    SAINT  3 

the  little  Manilaman,  mahogany-brown  in  a  shirt 
of  emerald,  limned  against  the  purple  of  the  float 
ing  gardens,  and  where  one  sought  the  open  water 
for  relief,  the  pools  merely  caught  up  all  that  morn 
ing  brilliance  and  flashed  it  back  to  you! 

Could  Clell  Redfield  or  I — men  of  the  house 
habit — "New  York  fel-los,"  as  the  Texan  gently 
styled  us — look  long  into  the  recesses  of  Laure's 
island? 

The  little  lugger  captain  kept  on  his  ceaseless 
trotting  to  pole  us  shoreward  against  the  hyacinth 
drift;  we  would  never  make  Isle  Bonne's  cove,  that 
was  sure;  and  of  a  sudden  Allesjandro  stopped 
and  bawled  into  the  silence,  for  that  wood  echo 
was  mocking  us  again : 

"Blow,  San  Anton — el  Blow  San  Ignacio!  San 
Pancrasio!  San  Pie  fro!  San  Barrabo!" 

There  were  some  strange  saints  in  Allesjandro's 
calendar.  But — on  my  word — as  her  elfin  laughter 
answered  the  Good  Child  lifted,  heeled  a  bit  as  her 
red  canvas  filled ;  and  the  little  skipper,  with  a  crow 
of  delight,  was  back  at  his  tiller,  kicking  it  over 
with  the  crotch  of  his  toes  while  he  let  the  sheet 
run.  Somewhere  over  the  flowered ,  water  had 
moved  a  breath,  and  softly,  as  if  treasuring  its 
strength,  the  lugger  stole  from  pool  to  pool  in  the 


4  JOHN    THE    FOOL 

opening  channel.  Alles Janeiro  was  forward  when 
her  bow  grated  on  the  shell  beach;  he  was  out  and 
throwing  a  line  about  the  one-plank  wharf,  and 
then,  his  hat  off,  he  was  bowing  exuberantly — but 
not  to  his  saints,  I  fear ! 

"Me — sometimes  I  burn  a  candle  fo'  dat  wind 
you  send,  Saint  Laure !"  he  cried,  and  bowed  again : 
"San  Barrabo,  I  put  him  last  fo'  Papa  Prosper  say 
not  to  his  saints,  I  fear ! 

Then  we  saw — wide-eyed,  silent,  curious  at  us — 
Allesjandro's  wood  saint.  She  was  swinging  her 
brown  foot  in  the  clear  black  water  about  the  cypress 
spikes,  and  her  gown  was  so  of  the  hue  of  the  moss- 
hung  bark  that  if  she  had  not  stirred,  I  might  not 
have  discovered  her.  The  shimmer  of  that  sun-filled 
sea  and  sky  was  still  dazzling  us.  She  was  looking 
with  an  assumption  of  a  grand  dame's  hauteur  at 
Virgil  Williams;  and  the  Texan  returned  her  gaze 
patiently.  Then,  without  recognizing  him,  or  us  two 
strangers  to  Isle  Bonne,  she  arose  with  careful  dig 
nity,  picked  her  way  to  the  one-plank  wharf  and 
went  along  it  to  the  stairs  of  Papa  Prosper's  gal- 
lerie  and  up  them  to  the  house  on  stilts  above  the 
low  shell  ridge. 

Clell  Redfield  and  I  gaped  after  her  as  if  she 
had  been  a  nymph  disengaged  and  arisen  from  the 


THE    WOOD    SAINT  5 

gray  of  the  ancient  wood.  Only  that  slender  form, 
her  black  hair  in  one  lustrous  fall  of  loose  braid 
down  her  back,  the  suggested  profile  and  the  slant 
of  her  scornful  eye  as  she  passed — well,  the  way 
she  cut  us  was  far  too  much  of  the  world  to  leave 
us  any  illusion  of  Arcady.  She  didn't  like  us,  that 
was  it,  without  doubt. 

The  tall  Texan  man  sighed:  "It's  me.  Spoiled 
all  her  fun  soon  as  she  saw  I'd  come  back  to  Isle 
Bonne!  You  see  we're  fightin'  her  fo'  the  land. 
Laure  and  the  Gulf  of  Mexico,  and  a  little  old 
king  o'  Spain — the  three  of  them  is  some  hard 
combination." 

"The  king  of  Spain?"  I  said,  and  even  Clell  for 
got  his  mordant  grimness  in  the  Texan's  presence 
to  listen:  "and  why  the  king  of  Spain?" 

Virgil  made  his  old  patient  gesture  out  to  the 
wide  hot  prairies  beyond  the  swamp  isle.  "He  is 
the  worst  of  all.  Been  dead  a  hundred  and  fifty 
years,  but  once  he  gave  a  grant  of  land  to  one  of 
these  Drouillots.  Yes,  seh — half  a  million  arpents 
of  land  to  some  old  pirate  of  a  duke.  And  here, 
the  last  of  'em  sits  on  it — the  last  of  the  sweet 
land,  fo'  most  of  it's  gone  under  the  Gulf  of  Mexi 
co." 

Then  he  looked  up  patiently  again  at  the  shutter- 


6  JOHN    THE    FOOL 

ed  house  on  its  absurd  stilts  above  the  shell-margin 
ed  swamp.  Allesjandro  had  gone  on  and  into  its 
galleried  recess;  the  murmur  of  conferring  voices 
came  to  us  with  the  drone  of  bees  somewhere  be 
yond.  "And  I  offered  'em  forty  thousand  clollehs 
once  for  their  rights  to  Isle  Bonne — which  rights 
are  just  none,  unless  they  find  the  original  grants 
from  the  king  o'  Spain.  Otherwise  the  French 
heirs  in  Bordeaux  hold  it,  and  it's  the  Bordeaux 
Drouillots  our  company  bought  the  titles  from. 
Forty  thousand,  and  Laure  wouldn't  take  it — she'd 
rather  put  faith  in  that  little  king  o'  Spain  than 
she  would  in  me!" 

And  his  high,  serene  smile  came  again. 

I  knew  the  man's  stuff;  he  had  got  twenty  thou 
sand  dollars  of  my  money  into  the  Prairie  Lands 
&  Development  Company  just  because  once  I  heard 
him  tell  his  story  over  a  directors'  table.  Simple, 
without  pretense,  or  evasion — I  remembered  the  still 
ness  among  those  uneasy,  complaining  financiers 
as  they  badgered  him  with  questions,  and  he  told 
of  the  six  years  of  disaster;  the  sun,  the  mosquitoes, 
the  loneliness,  the  gulf  storms  up  from  Cuba,  the 
sea  rushing  inland  smiting  his  dredges  and  canals, 
wiping  out  in  a  night  all  the  crawling  labor  of  a 


THE    WOOD    SAINT  9 

complacently,  for  I  was  one  of  those  sorry  and  fatu 
ous  directors  of  Virgil's. 

He  smiled  engagingly  but  with  restraint. 

"Come,  now,"  I  demanded.  "I'll  ask  Mary  and 
find  out.  What's  become  of  your  first  land  seek 
er?" 

"Took  one  look  at  his  homestead,  and  then  blow- 
ed  his  head  off.  I  bought  his  stuff  from  the  widda — 
that's  how  I  got  that  baby  buggy.  I  sto'ed  it  in 
that  camp,  Doctor  Dick.  Maybe — someday — they'll 
be  real  folks  around  here,  and — some  kids — and — 
well,  just  you  wait — "  his  slow  loving  gesture 
came,  his  hand  up  and  waving  to  the  dazzling 
shift  of  clouds  and  light  over  the  isle  flott antes — • 
the  impassable  trembling  prairie  of  the  south  coast: 
"You  wait,  Doctor  Dick.  Some  day — "  and  in  his 
eyes  his  dream  stood  forth — his  wilderness  was  a 
phantom  land  of  long  ago,  and  in  its  stead  a  smil 
ing  countryside  of  homes  and  playing  children:  he 
went  on  serenely.  "Some  day,  Doctor  Dick,  that 
little  fool  baby  buggy — well,  I  don't  know  just  ex 
actly  what  I  will  do  with  it,  but  th's  been  times  the 
last  years  on  this  job  when  it  was  all  that  kept 
me  fightin' — yes,  seh — that  little  fool  buggy  with 
the  pink  side  flaps  settin'  in  that  swamp  shack,  all 
so  lonesome.  I  expaict  the's  been  times  when  I 


io  JOHN    THE    FOOL 

sneaked  ove'  to  that  shack  and  looked  in  and  said : 
'I'm  cleaned  out  now,  but  I'm  comin'  back;  I'm 
licked  now,  but  I'm  crawlin'  up — and  all  fo'  you! 
Yes,  sell — fo'  you — personal  and  specified.' ' 

And  then  he  stood  up  on  the  shell  beach  rimming 
Isle  Bonne's  forest,  slowly  dying  in  the  stealthy  sea 
tides  creeping  in;  and  to  that  fantastic  place  of 
light,  of  color  and  of  silence,  he  spoke  with  the 
fine  drama  of  a  man  defying  failure: 

"You  see  it's  me — personal  and  specified — fo' 
the  sweet  land,  against  the  gulf,  the  girl  and  the 
king  o'  Spain!" 


CHAPTER  II 
THE  MAN'S  SIZE  JOB 

YOU  see  the  fellow  had  been  bred  on  defeat.  He 
had  gone  in  the  front  door  of  the  house  of 
failure,  in  and  out  of  all  the  rooms,  and  out  the 
back  yard  and  in  again,  abiding  there  his  days.  The 
sea  lands  and  the  short-grass  country,  the  ranges 
and  the  mountains;  he  had  mined,  and  ridden,  and 
fought  through  irrigation  schemes — and  somehow, 
always  other  men  had  reaped  and  he  had  turned 
aside  with  sore  hands,  watching  and  biding  his 
time  again. 

I  don't  know  just  when  he  came  to  the  south 
coast  country ;  I  had  met  him  first  in  Mary  Mason's 
apartments,  on  Fifty-seventh  Street;  she  had  known 
him  since,  as  a  child,  she  rode  his  saddle  in  the 
Panhandle  country.  He  had  loved  her,  it  seems, 
but  she  had  come  east  and  made  good;  and  again 
the  silent  soldier  of  misfortune  had  stepped  aside 
for  another.  But  I  shall  have  to  go  back  a  bit  to 
tell  how  it  was  that  I  came  south  with  these  two 

II 


12  JOHN    THE    FOOL 

men,  Williams  and  Clell  Redfield,  and  the  hate 
between  them. 

I  had  retired  from  our  firm  of  manufacturing 
chemists,  that  year,  and  had  planned  the  next  with 
Crosby,  who  had  been  our  chief  bacteriologist, 
and  had  his  bachelor  apartments  with  me  for  twenty- 
two  years,  until  the  government  lured  him  away  and 
sent  him  to  the  Caucasus  on  the  trail  of  an  impos 
sible  bug  to  avenge  the  wrongs  of  another  bug — a 
Department  of  Agriculture  bug  that  was  being  ex 
terminated  by  still  another  bug  of  alien  and  preda 
tory  instincts.  The  third  parasite  was  too  much  for 
poor  old  Crosby,  so  after  wandering  about  Arabia 
and  South  Russia  for  a  year  he  met  a  girl  from 
home,  resigned  and  settled  down  in  a  villa  at  Nice. 
That  was  a  blow  to  me^ — unless  you  have  scraped 
the  bottom  of  the  same  tobacco  jar  with  a  man  for 
twenty-two  years  you  won't  understand;  besides 
she  was  twenty  years  younger.  Still  Crosby  had 
written,  cabled,  plead,  and  when  he  learned  that  I 
retired  from  the  firm,  demanded.  The  girl  had 
granted  him  a  dispensation  of  six  weeks  while  we 
tramped  the  Alps,  and  Crosby  said  he  still  had  the 
same  pipe. 

So,  until  this  affair  of  Mary  and  Clell,  whom  I 
loved  better  than — well,  I  won't  say  Crosby,  but  his 


THE    MAN'S    SIZE   JOB  13 

meerschaum — I  had  planned  a  deal  on  that  sojourn. 
The  girl  had  written  me  that  never,  never  would 
she  insist  that  we  retire  of  mornings  until  four, 
if  the  talk  was  good,  which  was  more  than  Mrs. 
Meegs  would  allow  in  our  old  quarters.  Mrs.  Cros 
by  really  seemed  possible;  and  recalling  Crosby's 
former  theory  that  there  were  only  two  kinds  of 
women  in  the  world — the  round  roily  ones  and  the 
long  skinny  ones — I  was  curious  about  her.  After 
forty  a  man  is  either  a  fool  or  a  physician;  and 
Crosby  was  not  a  physician — he  merely  knew  some 
thing  about  bugs  and  bacteria. 

As  I  said,  the  affair  began  that  night  in  Mary's 
apartments.  Virgil  was  in  the  city,  called  to  his 
annual  conference  with  the  directors  of  the  land 
company,  facing  their  losing  faith,  complaints  that 
he  had  drawn  them  into  the  most  daring  of  all  the 
Gulf  coast  reclamation  projects.  I  had  met  him 
once;  Clell,  never.  But  he  knew  what  Mary  had 
been  to  the  Texan;  that  for  twelve  years  Virgil 
had  loved  her,  and  that  is  a  long  time  for  a  man 
to  love  a  woman  steadfastly,  loyally,  without  re 
compense,  without  hope;  to  grow  from  boyhood 
with  a  passion,  then,  reverencing  its  uselessness, 
lay  it  away,  simply,  without  resentment,  when  he 
knew  she  cared  more  for  another. 


14  JOHN    THE    FOOL 

I  had  just  of  late  had  my  eyes  really  opened  to 
it  all.  dell's  and  Mary's  affairs  were  an  open  book. 
For  all  the  six  years  of  their  engagement,  since 
they  had  both  graduated,  classmates  at  the  univer 
sity,  not  a  week  had  passed  of  their  eager  busy 
lives  that  I  had  not  been  with  them,  listened  to  their 
hopes  and  fears,  successes  and  discouragements. 

It  had  been  queer  enough.  They  had  plunged  into 
the  business  world  together  at  the  foot  of  the  lad 
der  in  the  same  huge  utilities  corporation;  Clell 
Redfield  with  his  electrical  engineer's  diploma  in  the 
drafting  room  of  the  Amalgamated  Electric  Com 
pany,  and  Mary  Mason  in  the  offices.  They  were 
equally  poor,  young,  proud,  buoyant — they  would 
get  on  and  marry  when  the  time  came,  when  Clell 
had  become  a  branch  manager  for  the  concern,  or 
had  opened  his  own  consulting  engineer's  offices. 

And  six  years  of  their  engagement  had  come 
and  gone,  and  Clell  was  still  a  draftsman  advanc 
ed  to  no  more  than  twenty-five  dollars  a  week; 
while  Mary  was  now  the  confidential  secretary  to 
the  general  manager  at  five  thousand  a  year !  That 
was  the  tragedy — I  had  been  sadly  watching  it  now 
these  two  years;  dell's  boyish  enthusiasm  dulling, 
the  light  going  from  his  eyes,  a  sort  of  shamefaced- 
ness  about  him  when  he  was  with  Mary  and  me 


THE    MAN'S    SIZE   JOB  15 

at  out  little  theater  sprees  or  up  at  her  flat — the 
iron  was  entering  his  soul  that  he  had  failed — at 
twenty-five.  The  pity  of  it! 

But  I  understood;  one  can  of  a  fellow  as  proud 
and  sensitive  as  Clell.  Mary  dumbly  knew  and 
had  tried  to  conceal  it  from  herself  and  from  him. 
Only  ten  minutes  before  Virgil  came  this  night,  her 
lover  cleared  it  for  them  both,  turning  to  me,  as  I 
removed  my  overcoat,  with  a  beseeching  pathos : 

"Doctor  Dick,  I'm  tired  of  waiting.  It  isn't  right 
— even  before  this  thing  of  Leila's  money,  and 
Mary  having  to  make  good  my  shortage,  it's  become 
intolerable.  Waiting — always  waiting.  Good  lord, 
I've  tried — I've  smashed  away  down  there  six  years 
— and  to-day  there  are  ten  thousand  young  fellows 
just  out  of  college  who  are  ready  and  fit  to  take 
my  job.  And  Mary — well,  I  asked  her  to  resign 
her  position  and  marry  me  and  take  a  chance — and 
she  won't!" 

Mary's  gray  eyes  had  sought  mine,  strangely 
touched. 

"That  isn't  quite  it,  Doctor  Dick.  I  love  Clell. 
You  both  know  how  much.  And  it's  been  hard 
waiting — oh,  so  very  hard!  But  now,  when  I — 
I  seem  really  to  have  gone  on  a  bit — and  Clell,  dear 
— Qell— " 


16  JOHN    THE    FOOL 

Clell  had  winced;  I  nodded  sympathetically.  I 
was  guessing  much. 

"We  ought  to  have  been  married  long  ago,"  went 
on  Mary. 

"And  I  asked  her  to  marry  me  now,"  Clell  cried. 

"On  your  salary,  Clell?"     I  ventured. 

"That's  just  it,  Doctor  Dick.  Six  years,  and  by 
this  time  we  had  planned  that  I'd  have  got  ahead 
and  Mary  would  have  quit  her  place  and  we'd  been 
married.  And  it's  Mary  who's  gone  to  the  top!" 

"Quite  so."  I  put  in  far  too  tranquilly  for 
hotheaded  Clell. 

"Every  cent  I  ever  saved  went  for  technical  books 
— what  does  it  get  a  fellow  with  this  big  combine  ?" 

"Clell,  dear,"  Mary  had  put  in  softly,  "you've 
done  splendidly.  Only— 

"That's  it — only  you've  done  better.  Mary, 
there's  something  wrong  somewhere.  College  and 
special  training  for  you  women  is  a  big  mistake.  Or 
else  it's  the  time  and  the  city.  You're  too — too 
modern — I  ask  you  to  marry  me  on  my  salary  and 
you  won't." 

"No.  And  you  know  I  love  you,  Clell."  And 
Mary  turned  to  me  with  a  bright  brave  eagerness. 
"Doctor  Dick,  I  just  asked  him  to  marry  me !  Now 
—at  once — to-morrow — and  we'd  both  keep  on 


THE    MAN'S    SIZE    JOB  17 

working  until — till  Clell  did  get  on  and  open  his 
own  consulting  offices,  and  things  were  splendid!" 

"My  dear — "  I  began,  not  so  tranquilly  this  time. 

"Thing  of  that  Doctor  Dick!"  Clell  cried. 
"Mary  and  I — married — both  of  us  working — she 
at  five  hundred  a  month  and  me — a  hundred !  Good 
lord,  do  you  think  a  man  could  stand  for  that?" 

"I  told  him  it  would  only  be  for  a  year  or  so. 
And  we  could  keep  on  right  in  my  apartments, 
Doctor  Dick — and  live  on  his  income — and  save  my 
money  to  open  his  business  with  when  the  time 
came." 

"Exactly  like  you,  Mary.  Wonderfully  sane, 
practical — all  that — but  a  man — "  I  looked  pity 
ingly  at  Clell,  and  it  stung  afresh,  I  fear. 

"Doctor  Dick  sees — "  he  blurted. 

"Dear  old  Dick  is  as  out-of-the-century  as  you 
are."  Mary  retorted.  "Oh,  I  want  to  help — and  I 
want  to  be  free — free — to  help !" 

"Er — but  marriage — "  I  said,  and  the  girl  cut 
me  off  sharply. 

"Marriage — is  what?" 

"Well — "  I  cleared  my  throat  severely.  "All  these 
ideas  of  you  intensely  modern  young  women — er, 
break  up  the  home  and  everything." 

Mary  laughed — there  at  the  outraged  two  of  us. 


i8  JOHN    THE    FOOL 

"To  be  free — and  capable,  and  able  to  help  make 
a  home — that  breaks  up  the  home,  does  it?" 

"What  sort  of  home  would  that  be?"  Clell  re 
torted.  "I'll  admit  I'm  a  bit  old-fashioned.  And 
Mary,  she's  grown  away  from  us,  Doctor.  The 
crowd  that  gathers  here  at  her  place  Friday  even 
ings — I  can't  go  them.  And  the  talk.  It  would 
discourage  you,  Doctor  Dick,  also." 

"Clell,  what  do  you  think  I've  been  working  and 
waiting  for  all  these  years,  except  a  home — a  free 
home — the  best  home — the  home  of  the  women  of 
to-morrow !  A  helpmate  to  the  man  I  love — a  com 
panion.  Of  course  I  can't  keep  house  on  twenty- 
five  a  week.  But  I  can  earn  money  to  do  so  on  a 
hundred!" 

Clell  turned  away  from  her  victoriousness  with 
a  despair  that  I  knew  was  irrevocable. 

"To  help  you,  dear!"  she  cried  brightly.  "Oh, 
we're  young  and  healthy  and  strong  and  the  things 
we  can  do — together!  But  stuck  away  in  a  dreary 
flat  of  three  rooms  I  could  do  nothing  to  help — 
not  even  cook  decently.  Oh,  Clell,  won't  you  see 
it?" 

"It's  your  standerd  of  life  you're  thinking  of — • 
not  mine." 

"It  is,  indeed.     And  our — our  children.     Do  you 


"No,  that  isn't  my  idea  of  a  wife" 


THE    MAN'S    SIZE   JOB  19 

know  what  your  standards  would  mean  in  New 
York — and  to  you  and  me — and  the  fight  ahead?" 

He  stared  at  her.  He  was  a  bit  old-fashioned.  It 
hurt  even  to  mention  their  children — the  boy  and 
I  were  much  alike.  But  Mary  went  on  evenly, 
without  constraint. 

"I  simply  wouldn't  have  them — that  is  all.  Un 
til  we  were  ready.  And  that  means  sunny  rooms, 
air  and  light  and  all  the  good  things.  No,  no — I — " 
and  she  laughed  queerly.  "I  won't.  I  want  you 
to  marry  me,  Clell — to-morrow.  And  we'll  take  a 
run  of  a  month  up  in  Maine,  and  then  come  back 
and  set  to  work  bravely  and  hopefully."  Then 
her  face  set  a  bit  hard — "In  spite  of  everything. 
Your — your  folly  about  Leila's  money,  and — and — 
what  you've  said — the  hard  things  you've  said — " 

He  laughed  in  his  turn,  mirthlessly.  "On  your 
money.  No — that  isn't  my  idea  of  a  wife." 

"Well,  comrades  then,  dear — but  together." 

She  was  really  trying,  I  could  see.  And  she  loved 
him — greatly,  beautifully — with  all  her  modernism 
and  unsentimental  wiseness  and  isms  and  cults — 
she  loved  him  better  than  he  could  know. 

"Think  of  what  men  'd  say — Redfield — his  wife 
working.  Down  in  the  same  office — and  making 
five  times  what  he  does." 


20  JOHN    THE    FOOL 

She  shrugged:  "Oh,  well!  I  can't  stop  for 
what  men  say!" 

"I — I've  been  straight/'  he  went  on  moodily.  "I've 
never  done  what  a  lot  of  fellows  I  know  have  done. 
I  kept  you  in  view  always — and  sometimes  it  was 
hard.  The  economic  pressure  that  puts  marriage 
off  and  makes  such  an  awful  evil  mess  of  things 
for  a  lot  of  them — I  fought  the  game  both  ways. 
Doctor  Dick,  you'll  understand!" 

"And  so  do  I,  Clell.  Why  shouldn't  a  woman 
know  all  truth — all  life — and  face  it  without  fear? 
A  man's  strength — his  protection — we  don't  need 
either.  We  need  truth  and  freedom  and  work  for 
our  souls !" 

We  both  stared  at  her.  I  thought  I  knew  Mary 
Mason,  but  she  had  been  getting  away  from  me. 
That  was  clear  now.  And  poor  Clell ! 

"I  won't  be  what  you  want  me  to  be,  Clell." 

"I  want  you  to  help  make  a  home  for  us." 

"Yes,  with  these  two  hands — and  this  brain  of 
mine.  Oh,  it  would  be  glorious,  dear — and  you 
won't — you  won't !  I  want  to  fight  by  your  side — • 
and  you  want  to  shut  me  in  a  cage  and  feed  me 
through  the  bars !" 

"Mary,"  I  put  in  solemnly,  "I — never  heard  you 
talk  like  this.  Even  when  you  graduated  and  all 


THE    MAN'S    SIZE   JOB  23 

refuse  to  make  a  home  for  a  man — when  you  love 
him!" 

"I  am  offering  to  make  a  home,  Clell!"  she  an 
swered  simply.  "I'm  fighting  for  my  home — for 
my  children — for  the  children  of  every  woman — 
fighting  better  than  the  old  sort  of  women  did.  The 
children  we  refuse  to  bring  into  the  world  in  dirt 
and  poverty  and  disease — that's  what  we  mean — • 
we  new  women !  That  is  the  greatest  love  of  all — 
the  wisest,  biggest,  best  That  is  what  we  mean — 
we  women!" 

She  had  laid  the  ring  upon  the  table.  He  did 
not  take  it.  I  tried  to  mutter  something,  just  what, 
I  don't  know,  except  that  they  were  the  dearest  of 
everything  in  the  world  to  me — they  and  their  happi 
ness.  But  the  next  moment  Clell  was  going,  ignor 
ing  her  and  the  ring  entirely;  and  then  he  stopped, 
facing  me  dryly. 

"Doctor  Dick,  that  foolish  investment  of  mine  of 
Leila's  money — criminal,  I  guess  it  was,  the  way  the 
court  looks  at  it.  I — I — thank  you.  She" —  he 
pointed  his  thumb  back  at  Mary — "said  you  got  it 
and  it's  in  the  court's  hands.  God  bless  you,  Doctor 
Dick!" 

"Bless  you,  boy!"  I  retorted  with  my  fatal  facil 
ity  for  blundering.  "I  never  raised  that  confound- 


24  JOHN    THE    FOOL 

ed  money — when  Mary  told  me  yesterday,  I  was  flat 
strapped.  Then  along  came  Williams  and  we  held 
him  up,  seeing  it  was  a  matter  of  moments  before 
court  closed." 

And  at  that  moment — while  I  stared  into  the  si 
lence  that  fell  between  us  all,  not  knowing  what  I 
had  done — the  bell  rang.  Another  minute  and  Vir 
gil  Williams  came  in,  in  his  usual  direct 
manner  past  the  maid.  Virgil,  who'd  known  Mary 
Mason  in  her  lean  childhood  of  the  short-grass 
country. 

The  thing  could  not  have  been  staged  more 
egregiously  coincidental.  My  speech,  dell's  gasp 
ing  wrath,  Mary's  silence — then  Williams  of  Texas 
— from  Louisiana,  up  here  to  sandbag  reluctant 
millionaires  for  his  drainage  canals.  We  should  all 
have  been  in  the  movies  at  that  moment. 

"You  took  it  from  Williams,  Doctor  Dick!"  re 
torted  Clell. 

My  attempt  at  nonchalance  was  the  baldest  taste : 
"Now,  my  dear  chap — "  I  began;  but  Clell  had  leap 
ed  back  before  Mary. 

"The  man  from  Texas !"  he  cried.  "I  might  have 
known!  That's  a  part  of  it.  Every  year — some 
times  twice  a  year  he  turns  up  here — and  you — " 

"Be  still,"  said  the  Texan:  "Yon!" 


THE    MAN'S    SIZE   JOB  25 

Clell  swept  around  on  him.  "I  owe  you  two 
thousand  dollars." 

"You  owe — to  Doctor  Rainey — two  thousand  dol 
lars,"  put  in  Mary,  and  her  voice  came  from  far 
cold  spaces  of  impersonality. 

"No !"  Clell  answered.  "I — yesterday — my  Honor 
• — so  it  was  called — was  endangered  because  I 
couldn't  account  for  two  thousand  dollars  in  my 
little  sister's  property  settlement.  It — well,  no  mat 
ter  where  it  went.  But  you — you  dared  call  upon 
this  man  for  help  about  it." 

Virgil  looked  at  him  with  a  sudden  dangerous 
alertness.  But  Clell  was  speaking  to  me  as  much  as 
to  Mary.  Mary  had  had  her  say.  She  stood  by  her 
table  looking  down;  the  light  on  her  brown  hair, 
but  I  could  not  see  her  face. 

"You  wanted  to  break  the  engagement — you 
wanted  to.  I  know!" 

She  merely  shrugged. 

"She  offered  to  marry  you  to-morrow,"  I  suggest 
ed.  And  I  noticed  a  curious  twist  of  the  Texan's 
cheek,  his  lean  brown  face  set  harder.  He  kept  his 
silence. 

Then  we  were  all  still  for  a  time.  Clell  broke 
it,  turning  again  to  the  other  man. 

"Damn  you — your  meddling — your  coming  here. 


26  JOHN    THE    FOOL 

But  that's  all  past — I — personally — owe  you  two 
thousand  dollars." 

"All  right."  The  other  man's  soft  drawl  had  the 
caress  of  the  south  wind  before  the  hurricane  month : 
"You — personally — owe  me  two  thousand  dollahs." 

Clell  was  a  boy  after  all — facing  a  man.  I  knew 
him  so  well,  his  hot  head,  his  way  of  leaping  at 
things — and  then  the  break.  I  was  painfully  ex 
pecting  him  to  break  now — a  tremor  to  his  voice, 
almost  to  tears — at  his  shame,  his  helplessness,  his 
sense  of  wrong,  and  nothing  would  break  him  quick 
er  than  this  last,  poor  chap! 

He  went  on  in  a  pretense  of  matter-of-fact  busi 
ness.  "I  can't  pay  you  now.  I — have  left  my  posi 
tion — am — going — away.  But  this" — he  turned 
to  me  with  a  touch  of  his  old  fierceness —  "remem 
ber,  Doctor  Dick,  this  is  my  debt.  I — pay !" 

I  had  to  bow  my  head  in  assent.  The  boy  would 
have  throttled  me  if  I  had  crossed  him  then.  Mary 
still  listened  dispassionately. 

"I'll  give  you — a  note,"  poor  Clell  blundered  on, 
and  Virgil  let  the  ghost  of  a  smile  to  his  lips. 

"Note?  I  don't  want  a  note.  Down  where  I 
come  from  a  man's  word  is  a  man's  word.  Yes, 
seh !  You-all  owe  me  two  thousand  dollahs.  Down 
where  I  come  from  you'd  learn  a  good  deal  of  men. 


THE    MAN'S    SIZE    JOB  27 

Men  out  in  the  loneliness,  fightin'  away.  They're 
pretty  square,  somehow.  About  money  and  with 
women.  Yes,  seh — you'd  learn  a  good  deal  if  you 
could  stand  up  under  a  man's  size  game." 

The  younger  man  looked  at  him  across  the  table. 
"I  don't  know.  You'd  have  to  show  me.  You 
aren't  such  a  damned  lot  as  I  can  see." 

The  southerner  glanced  at  him  a  bit  more  softly 
from  under  his  hat,  which  he  had  put  on  to  go,  as 
he  always  did,  and  then  remembered  to  take  it  off 
when  he  reached  the  hall. 

"A  man's  size  game,"  he  repeated.  "Good-by,  you- 
all.  Miss  Mary,  I'll  come  in  again  before  Wednes 
day  mawnin'  when  I  leave." 

Mary  did  not  stir.  Clell  it  was  who  moved  swift 
ly  about  the  table.  "Remember,"  he  flashed  out — 
"two  thousand  dollars !" 

The  other  man  laughed  softly.  The  city  youth 
followed  again. 

"Damn  you,  I  could  show  you!  Your  man's 
game — I  could  knock  your  block  off  at  it!" 

The  Texan  squared  around,  gently  folding  his 
arms.  "Yes?  Oh,  I  reckon  you  could  do — pass 
able.  I  seen  'em  from  the  cities  that  could  get  by 
with  the  work.  But  the  lonesomeness — the  bigness 
— with  the  sea  runnin'  in  on  you,  and  the  silence — 


28  JOHN    THE    FOOL 

well,  you  stick  to  you'  little  blue-prints  and  high 
stool,  stranger,  yet  a  while." 

The  remote  scorn  in  that  soft  voice  was  some 
thing  you  can  not  suggest.  But  it  found  its  way 
to  the  city  man's  soul.  He  reached  to  touch  the 
other's  arm,  a  tap  of  his  forefinger. 

"I  owe  you  two  thousand  dollars.  Maybe  you 
got  a  job  where  a  man  could  pay  that  out?" 

"I  got" — drawled  the  other — "a  man's  size  job — 
for  a  man." 

"I  want  it." 

"Seh?" 

"I'll  go." 

"Seh?    With  me?" 

"Yes." 

The  silence  fell  again.  I  felt  Mary  was  watching 
them  with  that  sure,  covert,  careless  poise  of  hers. 
That  exquisite  capability  of  Mary's  was  annoying 
now  and  then ;  and  to  a  lover  it  might  have  been — 
well,  I  refused  to  pass  judgment;  my  mind  went 
disconsolately  back  to  Crosby  and  his  pipe.  I  won 
dered  how  the  new  vintage  of  femininity  had  been 
poured  into  such  a  cracked  old  bottle  as  he,  if  here 
was  my  hot  young  man  in  revolt  at  it.  He  madly 
wanted  some  primal  fear,  some  barbaric  unreason- 


THE    MAN'S    SIZE   JOB  29 

ableness  in  Mary,  and  she  had,  apparently,  a  mere 
unbiased  appreciation  of  the  deplorable  situation. 

The  Texan  had  been  measuring  Clell,  too;  he 
spoke  softly,  and  as  if  the  other  might  have  been  a 
roustabout  who  asked  him  for  a  job  on  the  levees. 

"Ninety  dollahs  a  month  will  start  you.  And 
grub.  I  cain't  say  just  what  you'll  do.  It's  a  right 
lonesome  camp  way  off  up  in  back." 

He  was  at  the  door  and  then,  from  the  elevator 
in  the  hall,  turned :  "Maybe  you'll  make  good,  Red- 
field.  You  have  you'  chance." 

Then  he  had  gone ;  and  after  a  time  in  which  there 
was  no  word  from  us,  Clell  went  out.  It  cut  me 
to  the  heart  to  have  them  part  so.  Clell  and  Mary 
— the  two  I  loved.  But  when  the  boy  was  gone, 
Mary  flew  past  the  sad  little  silver  things  on  the 
table  that  had  been  set  for  a  bite  with  Clell  and  me 
this  piteous  evening. 

"Doctor  Dick!"  she  whispered,  "they  can't  do  it 
1 — they  can't — hating  each  other!  Clell — and  Virgil 
— who  gave  me  up  to  him  long  ago.  Oh,  something 
dreadful  will  happen!" 

"Well,"  I  answered:  "you  were  not  moved  to 
say  so  before." 

"How  could  I  ?    Would  Clell  have  listened  ?  With 


30  JOHN   THE   FOOL 

— with  Virgil  looking  on,  and — smiling?  I  had  to 
let  them  make  the  test!'' 

"You  succeeded  very  well,  my  dear.  You  are  a 
bit  super-civilized,  as  poor  Cell  imagines.  Too  de 
tached,  too  complete,  too — " 

"Doctor  Dick!" 

"It  appears  so.  I  am  trying  to  be  dispassionate. 
But  Clell  feels  he's  failed,  while  you  are  very  sure 
that  you  have  not.  And  so  he's  turning  utterly 
from  your  type  of  woman  and  your  scheme  of 
things.  He  wants  something  different — wholly  bar 
barous,  and  to  fling  himself  against  it  and  win." 

"But  he's  not  that  kind  himself!" 

I  tried  to  smoke  and  conceal  satisfaction  at  the 
flutter  she  was  in.  "But  you'll  go,"  she  cried  :  "And 
see  to  them — that  nothing  dreadful  does  happen, 
Doctor  Dick,  dear!" 

"It  seems  so.  Virgil,  confound  him,  wheedled 
most  of  my  loose  money  into  his  land  concern.  But 
the  fellow — someway  you  can't  help  it." 

"That's  just  it,"  she  mused.  "He  loved  me  for 
twelve  years — it  took  all  that  to  convince  him  I 

J 

couldn't  marry  him — dear  solemn  chap!"  She 
sighed:  "But  once  convinced,  he  has  taken  it  su 
perbly — as  a  big  man  would.  He  even  told  me  of 
a  girl  down  there — some  wild  creature  who  was 


THE    MAN'S    SIZE    JOB  31 

blocking  all  his  great  schemes  somehow  or  other." 
Then  she  was  thinking  again :  "Doctor  Dick,  do  you 
think  I  should  have  given  up  everything  just  to  be 
Clell's  wife?" 

"That  is  what  men  like  to  think,  down  in  their 
souls — and  some  women,  too.  But  utterly  impracti 
cal,  my  dear — incomprehensibly  silly!  None  but  a 
savage  would  be  so  absurd  as  to  love  in  any  such 
fashion." 

Mary  stopped  me  with  the  first  flash  of  anger 
I  had  ever  seen  in  her  and  rang  the  bell  for  the 
tea  silently.  But  I  saw  that  as  a  savage,  she  was 
a  sad  failure! 

And  so  it  was  that  the  three  men  of  us  came 
to  Isle  Bonne,  and  glimpsed  back  of  it  the  shimmer 
ing  canal,  leading  to  the  man's  size  job.  At 
this  end  sat  Allesjandro's  wilful  wood  saint.  She 
hardly  appeared  an  insurmountable  barrier  even  if 
abetted  by  the  king  of  Spain. 


CHAPTER  III 

ISLE  BONNE 

NOW  from  the  sto'  of  my  friend  Prosper  on 
Isle  Bonne  to  the  sto'  of  my  friend  Placide  on 
Isle  L'Ourse  is  not  so  far  that  one  might  not  walk 
it  in  an  hour,  if  there  was  anything  to  walk  on 
which  there  is  not;  and  anything  to  purchase  at 
either  establishment.  Placide,  in  fact,  having  con 
gratulated  himself  that  his  final  customer,  having 
purchased  the  last  of  his  condensed  milk — on  credit 
— and  having  stolen  the  last  of  his  peppers,  with  a 
morsel  of  garlic  for  lagnappe — he,  also  can  peace 
fully  sit  on  his  gallerie  and  watch  the  lilies  drift 
to  the  sea,  unannoyed  by  such  a  banal  thing  as 
trade. 

Papa  Prosper,  wearing  huge  horn  goggles  across 
his  gray  lank  face  and  holding  a  two  months'  old 
New  Orleans  newspaper  upside  down,  paddled  out 
on  his  gallerie  in  his  straw  slippers  to  greet  us 
with  the  courtesy  due  one's  enemies. 

"We  were  just  passin'  this  \vay,"  murmured  Vir- 
32 


ISLE    BONNE  33 

gil.     "And  I  thought  you-all  might  as  well  know 
these  two  fel-los  to  begin  with." 

Papa  bowed  to  the  introductions.  "Ah,  messieurs ! 
Ou'  leetle  isle — she  is  too  much.  Fo'  why  gentle 
men  quarrel  ?  M'sieu  Williams,  f o'  f  ou'  years  now 
he  says:  'Papa,  pretty  soon  yo'  have  to  get  out.' 
I  say:  'Fo'  why  all  dis?'  M'sieu  Williams,  he 
say :  'We  sue  you  f  o'  dis  leetle  isle,  and  yo'  betteh 
come  to  dat  cou't.' '  Papa  Prosper  sighed  ami 
ably  :  "Me,  I  don't  go  fo'  nuttin'.  All  a-time  some 
body  he  sue  fo'  dis  leetle  isle.  Sixty  years  now,  all 
a-time  somebody  sue  fo'  ou'  leetle  isle,  messieurs; 
and  me — I  sit  here  on  my  gallerie,  jus'  lak  a  million 
aire." 

Virgil  sighed  gently  in  return.  He  shook  his 
head  lugubriously.  Papa  Prosper  was  waving  a 
hand  to  the  darkened  hall  of  his  house. 

"Coffee,  mademoiselle,  fo'  messieurs." 

But  mademoiselle  was  not  there.  I  saw  her  now 
stealing  from  the  ragged  clump  of  latanier  palm 
that  enrobed  the  shoulders  of  Papa  Prosper's  wild 
sweet  garden,  and  crossing  the  shell  ridge  to  her 
former  perch  on  the  bole  of  the  ancient  oak. 
I  saw  another  there,  a  lazy  dark-eyed  boy 
stretched  outright  in  his  green  pirogue  among  the 
jutting  knees  of  the  cypress  in  the  water.  He  had 


34  JOHN   THE    FOOL 

peered  at  us  from  the  shadowy  recesses,  and  now, 
>vhen  the  girl  crept  again  to  her  niche  in  the  great 
tree,  he  settled  back  quite  content. 

Papa  eyed  this  finely  indifferent  evasion  of  his 
paternal  authority.  Coffee  for  messieurs  from  her 
hands  was  plainly  not  forthcoming.  The  toss  of  her 
long  braid  over  her  left  shoulder  as  she  sat  was 
cruelly  meant  for  the  New  York  fel-los.  Papa 
sighed  again,  and  with  a  long  forefinger  raised  the 
horn  goggles  upon  his  nose  reflectively. 

"Ah,  dis  worl' !  She  is  too  much.  Me — I — Pros 
per  Drouillot — f  o'  why  I  go  sue  somebody  ?  Laure 
— all  a-time,  she  come  back  from  John-the-Fool  and 
say :  'Papa,  dem  Yankee  fel-los  dig  and  dig  and  dig 
in  ou*  leetle  isle — bom!  Sooch  a  noise — sooch  a 
smoke  dat  dredge,  he  mak !  Why  doan  yo'  sue  some 
body?'  Le  bon  Dieu,  and  dem  lawyers  I  trust  fo' 
ou'  leetle  isle.  So  Laure  go  back  to  Messieur  le 
Baron,  and  Messieur  le  Baron,  he  roar.  Lak  a 
beeg  steamboat  when  he  blow  up — sooch  a  noise!" 

He  waved  us  to  the  long  benches  against  the 
honeysuckle  shade  of  his  gallerie.  Then  he  was 
gone  within  and  to  his  coffee-dripping. 

"There  was  some  mail,"  put  in  Williams,  as  we 
idled.  "I  gave  it  to  you,  Doctor  Dick — remembeh  ?" 


ISLE    BONNE  35 

I  had  forgotten  some  gimcrack  of  a  card  given 
us  at  the  last  port  of  call  of  the  bi-weekly 
mail-boat — a  shrimp  camp  twenty  miles  up  the  tidal 
lakes.  Only  the  name;  and  the  picture  of  some 
boys'  school  in  New  Orleans.  I  went  back  to  my 
coat  left  on  the  lugger,  and  then  an  idea  seized 
me  of  securing  recognition  from  our  recalcitrant 
wood  saint.  So  I  paused  at  the  oak  tree  by  the 
shell  ridge  margin  and  with  air  and  bow  of  my  best 
twenties  extended  the  resplendent  card  to  her 

"Mademoiselle  Laure,  I  have  the  honor — " 

Then  there  was  a  most  glorious  fight.  The  lazy 
dark-eyed  boy  started  up  from  his  green  pirogue, 
almost  upsetting  the  craft  and  pulling  Laure  off 
the  log  into  the  water.  He  snatched  at  the  post 
card  and  their  hands  came  together.  Out  the  wood 
saint  reached  and  fastened  her  other  hand  in  the 
youth's  curly  hair.  Off  fell  his  sweetheart's  gar 
land;  over  he  fell — splash!  And  she  atop  of  him! 
Up  they  came  dripping  and  breathless,  scrambling 
along  the  shell  beach.  But  the  saint  had  her  gin 
gerbread  card. 

"Pig!"  she  called  back  with  fathomless  contempt 
and  triumph.  "Pig — pig — pig!" 

Up  she  climbed  on  the  shaky  planks  to  me,  the 


36  JOHN    THE    FOOL 

scant  blue-gray  skirt  she  wore  clinging  to  her  slim- 
ness,  her  breasts  heaving.  She  turned  to  me  with 
angry  laughter. 

"Merci,  messieur !  My  card  he  treat  that  a- way !" 
She  cast  her  scorn  back  to  the  wet  lover  who  was 
after  his  morning  catch  of  crabs  scrambling  this 
way  and  that.  "Pig !  Now  I  love  Antoine !  Never 
he  do  that."  She  treasured  Antoine's  limp  card 
ever  so  tenderly  to  her  damp  cheek.  "He  never 
waste  his  life  with  mostly  crabs.  He  going  on  and 
on  in  the  world — sometime  he  be  a  barbeh !" 

The  defeated  one  was  crushed.  Disconsolately 
he  held  up  his  luckless  basket.  "Fo'ty  cents  of 
crabs  I  lost,  m'sieu!  Fo'  why? — dat  girl!"  He 
sighed  and  turned  away.  "Wan  time,  sometime, 
I  go  off  and  see  the  worl' — and  be  a  sto'  clerk!" 

I,  too,  sighed.  Will  we  never  be  done  with  it? 
Isle  Bonne  was  not  large  enough,  nor  its  wood 
deep  enough,  nor  its  sky  high  enough  to  contain  love 
without  rancor.  I  feared  we  had  come  to  the  wrong 
place  with  our  own  doleful  tale.  I  looked  back  at 
Clell  who  had  got  out  on  the  docks  and  was  inter 
estedly  staring  at  Laure.  The  Texan's  glance  was 
on  her.  She  read  lovelorn  Antoine  to  the  clammy 
end.  Then — with  a  voice  whose  soft  malice  was 
just  raised  to  the  wet  one's  hearing — she  turned : 


ISLE    BONNE  37 

"Papa,  Antoine  say  he  not  think  he  got  money  for 
school  this  winteh  all  a-time,  so  he  come  back  and 
marry  me!" 

Papa  Prosper  pattered  down  to  us,  his  two 
months'  old  paper  still  under  his  arm,  and  removed 
his  huge  horn  goggles. 

"Ah,  m'sieu,  dat  girl!  All  a-time  marry  some 
body  !  Dat  what  a-happen  to  my  pig,  m'sieu.  All 
a-time  somebody  come  marry  Laure!" 

Now  from  under  the  red  sto'  wandered  a  pig.  A 
white  pig  about  whose  ample  girth  was  trimly  set 
a  rusty  barrel  hoop.  We  gazed  in  wonder.  The 
Texan  was  laughing  softly.  Clell  looked  at  it  with 
the  first  trace  of  a  smile  since  we  left  the  North. 
Apparently  it  interested  his  engineer's  technique. 

"Doctor  Dick,  what  I'd  like  to  know  is,  did  they 
put  the  pig  in  the  barrel  hoop,  or  the  barrel  hoop 
around  the  pig?  Still,  what's  it  to  do  with  marrying 
Laure?" 

"The'  a  story."  The  Texan  was  speaking.  "But 
don't  start  Papa  Prosper  on  it  now.  You  see — " 
Virgil  paused  suddenly,  dell's  back  was  to  him. 
And  that  pitiless  silence  fell ;  the  two  had  not  spoken 
directly  to  each  other  since  that  night.  Not  as  man 
to  man.  Through  and  to  me  the  necessary  speech 
was  made.  And  the  thing  was  shriveling  my  soul. 


38  JOHN    THE    FOOL 

I  had  hoped  Clell  would  put  away  that  savagery 
down  here.  But  Virgil  looked  at  me  with  his  faint 
patient  smile  and  nodded.  Our  hosts  did  not  no 
tice.  Allesjandro  was  already  on  his  lugger  poling 
her  out  through  the  lily  masses,  and  midstream 
I  heard  his:  "Blow,  San  Anton — e!" 

We  were  alone  in  Virgil's  world.  He  had  promis 
ed  us  loneliness.  I  looked  across  the  broad  bayou. 
Beyond  its  floating  gardens  the  prairie  cane  stretch 
ed  pathlessly  northward.  To  eastward  lay  the  first 
of  the  chain  of  tidal  lakes.  At  the  near  point  their 
sunken  shores  become  a  gleam  of  milk  white  shells 
and  here  an  oak  grove  grew.  But  over  this  thin 
shore-margin  began  again  the  trembling  prairie, 
stretching  inimitably  southward.  Back  of  us  lay 
Isle  Bonne's  cypress  swamp,  a  gray  wondrous  jun 
gle  with  the  moss  plumes  hanging  to  the  black 
water. 

The  Texan  saw  my  lingering  glance.  "Ain't  they 
trees?  It's  the  last  untouched  cypress,  I  reckon 
in  all  Louisiana.  By  Mighty,  but  the's  timbeh  in 
there !  Worth  ninety  thousand  dollehs,  and  the  old 
son-of-a-gun, — well,  go  look  in  his  shack  there  and 
see  how  he  and  Laure  keep  house !" 

Inside  the  sto'  I  saw  as  much  as  eight  tins  of  corn 
ed  beef  and  six  of  condensed  milk  and  two  sacks 


ISLE    BONNE  39 

of  flour  and  one  of  green  coffee.  Also  a  stack 
of  mink  and  muskrat  pelts  and  a  bundle  of  rusty 
traps  and  a  barrel  of  red  wine  with  an  agate  mea 
sure  under  the  tap.  The  rest  of  the  shelves  were 
free  of  merchandise.  And  yet,  looking  on  through 
that  dismal  store  I  saw  the  sunshine  falling  on  a 
brilliant  red  carpet  square  on  which  sat  a  quaint 
table  and  on  that  a  lace  covering  quite  severely  ele 
gant.  Through  the  far  door  the  bees  were  hum 
ming  against  the  wet  glitter  of  honeysuckle,  jas 
mine,  blackberry  bloom  sprawling  all  over  their  stilt 
ed  hives  above  the  water,  and  up  on  the  latanier 
palms  to  the  enshrouding  gray  of  the  mossed  cy 
press.  Isle  Bonne  was  a  sad  fizzle  as  an  island — a 
mere  half  mile  of  shell  reef  that  a  twelve-hour  wind 
tide  would  cover  from  bayou  side  to  the  spiked 
swamp. 

But  Virgil,  who  had  come  with  me  into  the  sto' 
suddenly  smote  his  palms.  "We  don't  want  his  big 
cypress !  We  want  to  dig  a  main  ditch  behind  it  to 
get  our  two  holdin's  drained  to  the  same  pumping 
plant.  And  the  old  crab,  when  we  offer  him  forty 
thousand  dollehs  just  for  a  quit-claim  when  he  had 
no  manneh  of  title  to  show,  that  girl  wouldn't  let 
him.  So  the  company  will  have  to  go  ahead  and  dis 
possess  'em — soon  as  the  Supreme  Cou't  confirms 


40  JOHN    THE    FOOL 

our  deeds  from  the  French  line  of  'em.  Sho' — 
they  neve'  had  a  chance — but  I  couldn't  make  'em 
see  it.  Spent  two  years  tryin'  to  save  somethin' 
out  of  the  wreck  for  Papa  and  his  girl,  and  along 
comes  that  boa'd  of  directors  and  say  I  hung  up 
the  job  on  account  of  heh!" 

"Mary  remarked,"  I  mused :  "that  there  was  a 
—girl." 

"First,  the's  a  job,"  he  muttered,  and  then  his  high 
smile  came :  "Only  it's  right  lonesome  here.  Used 
to  come  around  the  island  to  pass  the  time  of  day 
with  Prosper,  and  she — why,  she  ran  inside  and 
closed  the  blinds  like  I  was  a  blamed  pizen  snake. 
But  what  can  you  expaict  when  they  were  pirates — 
the  Drouillots — and  used  to  run  their  slave  brigs 
right  up  into  John-the-Fool  and  hide  'em.  Only 
Laure,  she's  gone  to  school  in  N'Awlyins  convent, 
and  ought  to  know  betteh." 

His  worn  blue  eyes  smiled  again.  "Well,  we'll 
hang  out  here  until  Big  Jim  sends  the  launch  around 
fo'  us.  To-morrow" — he  eyed  Clell  who  was  grimly 
silent  as  ever : — "the  dredge  will  start.  Yes,  seh — 
I  expaict  it  will.  They  told  me  I'm  crazy — they 
told  me  to  lay  up  the  machines — no  mo'  money  this 
year  unless  we  win  the  case  so  Driscoll  can  sell 
the  bonds.  And  I  told  'em  the  work  would  go 


ISLE    BONNE  41 

on — I  took  an  option  on  that  ten  thousand  acres  on 
the  outside — personal  and  specified,  and  contracted 
to  drive  a  fo'ty-foot  ditch  through  to  it — just  to 
show  'em  how  /  believed !  Yes,  seh — drive  that  old 
mud  hook  into  salt  water  by  Septembeh.  Maybe 
I'm  crazy — all  right;  I  know  land,  and  I  know 
men — and  to-morrow  the  dredge  starts.  That  old 
machine  is  me — personal  and  specified." 

Then  I  first  saw  the  man's  rugged  weariness.  He 
had  been  doubted,  censured,  laughed  at.  He  was  not 
the  sort  you  would  call  a  dreamer  but  he  had  vi- 
sioned  the  most  daring  of  all  the  south  coast  re 
clamation  schemes ;  he  was  not  what  you  would  term 
a  lover,  but  a  rare  sweetness  was  about  him  always. 

He  raised  his  hand  to  indicate  the  gray  pall  of  the 
forest.  His  forefinger  seemed  to  feel  for  the  faint 
air. 

"Listen,"  he  murmured :  "You  can  hear  it,  Doc 
tor  Dick.  The  gulf  is  singin'  at  me.  Behind  the 
woods  the  salt  prairie  begins,  and  behind  that  the 
last  reef.  They  told  me  it  couldn't  be  done — that 
Isle  Bonne  was  the  last  sweet  land,  but  I'll  build 
my  levee  thirty  miles  the  other  side.  And  drive  the 
sea  out  with  the  biggest  pumps  eve'  put  into  a  ditch 
in  Louisiana — I  got  'em,  too!  Right  across  this 
island,  rusting  in  the  swamp  at  John-the-Fool. 


42 

That's  what  makes  me  so  sorry — my  big  pumps 
rustin',  and  that  boa'd  of  directors  tell  me  to  lay 
up  work  fo'  a  year.  That's  why  I  took  that  option 
— personal  and  specified.  If  I  don't  finish  the  ditch 
why,  then  I'm  broke — personal  and  specified.  And 
that  Cleveland  f el-lo  sayin'  I  laid  down  on  the  work 
fo'  a— a  girl!" 

She  had  come  out  as  the  last  soft  scorn  of 
his  voice  died  away.  Papa  Prosper  ambled  after 
with  his  tray  and  coffee  cups.  Upon  the  gallerie 
rail  the  mistress  of  Isle  Bonne  sat  herself  and  look 
ed  us  over  briefly.  She  had  the  air  of  conceding 
an  indifferent  point  to  hospitality;  but  serve 
coffee? — "jamais — famais!"  I  heard  her  murmur. 

"Dis  isle,  messieurs,"  went  on  Prosper,  "he  ain't 
much  fo'  trade.  So  we  eat  up  ou'  sto'.  She  fine 
while  she  last.  Now  dat  sto'  gone  I  sit  here  on  my 
gallerie.  Mebbe  sometime  I  go  to  N'Awlyins  and 
spend  two  dollehs  a  day  just  lak  a  millionaire.  But 
Mademoiselle  Laure,  neve'  she  let  me  sell  ou'  leetle 
isle.  All  dem  leetle  birds  dey  sing  in  all  dem  big 
trees,  say  mon  chere  Laure;  is  not  dat  enough  fo' 
happy  ?" 

Laure  shrugged  with  relenting  grace;  perhaps 
at  closer  glance  the  New  York  fel-los  were  not  so 
bad.  "Happy?  Antoine,  he  went  off  to  see  the 


ISLE    BONNE  43 

world — and  now  what  you  think?  He  say  it  not 
so  much  to  be  a  barbeh!  He'd  rather  come  back 
and  marry  me."  She  laughed  her  triumph;  then 
her  long-lashed  and  star-deep  eyes  narrowed  side- 
wise  in  their  glance  upon  my  friend  Clell.  There 
was  a  suggestion  that  her  interest  was  for  him 
alone  though  her  words  were  to  us  all. 

"Papa,  the  gentlemen  come  fo'  to  buy  our 
island?" 

Papa  shrugged ;  I  disclaimed  any  such  sinister  pur 
pose. 

Isle  Bonne's  mistress  looked  at  me  as  if  she 
might  easily  suspect  me  of  lying.  "Then  you  are 
engineers  ?" 

"Not  at  all,  mademoiselle." 

"Then  you  are  detectives?  Some-a-times  the's 
bad  men  hide  out  in  the  deep  swamp.  Old  Pierre! 
Papa,  yo'  remembeh  Old  Pierre  what  one-a-time 
kill  somebody?" 

"Dat  ol'  scoundrel — wan  time  he  stole  my  fish 
trap." 

Laure  clapped  her  hands.  Somewhere,  by  our 
heads,  as  we  sat  along  the  sto'  gallerie,  a  tree-frog 
was  singing  in  the  honeysuckle  that  was  massed  over 
Papa  Prosper's  rain  barrels.  "Be  still — you !  Papa, 
make  dat  frawg  be  still!" 


44  JOHN    THE    FOOL 

Papa  rustled  the  honeysuckle  indolently.  Laure 
laid  that  ever-so-distant  glance  of  hers  on  my  dis 
trait  friend  again.  "Then  I  reckon,  you  are  fawt- 
chune-tellers  ?" 

Clell  laughed — the  first  of  his  old  real  honest 
laughs  since — well,  the  night  of  Virgil's  challenge. 

"Mademoiselle,  can  you  tell  mine,  now?  Doc 
tor  Dick,  I'd  like  to  know !" 

Virgil  was  watching  the  two.  And  I — well,  I 
had  not  known  Clell  all  his  life  for  nothing.  He 
made  friends  of  women  with  fatal  ease — all  of  them 
in  the  old  days,  with  his  boy's  wholesomeness, 
his  good  looks,  his  saying  to  them  of  the  things 
they  wished  best  to  believe  of  themselves.  Since 
his  manhood  it  had  not  changed  greatly.  I  had 
wondered  at  Mary's  patience,  yet  he  had  loved  her 
best  and  truest.  After  all  they  like  his  sort.  He  had 
not  found  himself — that  was  the  trouble. 

Our  small  saint  ignored  his  query.  "Papa,  maybe 
they  come  fo'  to  dig  pirates'  treasure  ?" 

I  laughed  then.  Virgil  relented  to  a  smile.  Clell 
turned  to  me  good-humoredly.  "Doctor  Dick,  that 
would  be  best  of  all !" 

Laure  did  not  relish  our  taking  of  it.  "Why,  we 
got  mo'  pirate  hide-ups  in  our  reefs  than  most  any 
body!  Some-a-time  I  let  you  dig  one." 


ISLE    BONNE  45 

"Thank  you,"  retorted  Clell  gravely,  "just  show 
me!" 

The  tree-frog  was  yelling  again.  In  that  sweet 
noon  silence  it  was  terrific.  Laure  clapped  her 
hands  and  the  disturber  keyed  lower.  But  when 
the  talk  resumed  he  yelled  the  louder. 

"Dat  little  tree-hop — "  said  Papa  Prosper,  and 
began  to  part  the  honeysuckle  masses.  He  found 
the  tree-frog  and  threw  him  gently  off  the  gallerie. 
"Now,  it'll  take  him  an  hour  to  get  back  in  ou'  cis 
tern  and  we  can  talk  a  while,  m'sieu." 

But  we  couldn't.  The  ambitious  tree-hop  was 
back  behind  the  gallerie  rail  in  half  the  time  and 
resuming  his  discords.  Papa  scolded  and  hurled 
him  again  into  watery  exile  under  the  gallerie  posts. 
Virgil  arose  and  paced  the  sto'.  I  saw  his  eyes  go 
out  across  the  pathless  salt  marsh  past  the  blue 
wall  of  the  cypress  forests. 

"This  old  cuss  and  his  tree-frawg!  For  six 
years  I  been  comin'  here  to  pass  the  time  of  day. 
Papa  and  his  tree-frawg  and  his  pig  in  the  barrel 
hoop — and  Laure;  and  out  there,  Doctor  Dick,  my 
dredge  is  goin'  to  junk,  and  the  lilies  are  fillin'  the 
ditches  I  dug,  and  the  sweet  land  is  getting  saltier 
year  by  year.  And  up  nawth  Driscoll  and  his 
crowd  hold  off  that  money  and  tell  me  to  lay  up — 


46  JOHN    THE    FOOL 

till  we  win  and  the  bonds  are  sold."  Always  he 
came  back  to  the  matter ;  down  in  his  soul  he  knew 
he  was  edging  close  to  failure  at  last;  he  had  thrown 
the  last  dice  for  our  fortunes.  And  Laure  of  the 
isle,  refusing  his  compromise,  three  years  ago,  and 
insisting  on  the  battle  which  the  New  Orleans  law 
yers  had  made,  had  brought  him  to  the  breaking 
point. 

She  suddenly,  it  appeared,  discovered  a  new 
means  to  ruffle  him.  Watching  her  mobile  and  ten 
der  mouth,  I  saw  it  tighten  with  demure  guile.  Per 
haps  she  guessed  some  hidden  issue  between  them; 
at  any  rate,  a  sparkle  came  to  her  eyes  as  she  turned 
on  my  stubborn  young  friend  from  the  city,  and 
struck  her  small  brown  hands  together. 

"My  honey  bees!  M'sieu,  would  you  see  my 
honey  bees  ?" 

"I  would  that  very  thing."  Clell  sat  up  straighter : 
"Honey  bees — or  pirates — or — or — anything,  Made 
moiselle  Laure,  that  is  of  your  little  isle.  A  won 
derful  little  isle,  and  I — I'm  sorry!" 

She  looked  at  him  with  rare  attentiveness.  And 
under  her  lashes  to  the  other  man,  who  could  never 
tell  her  he  was  sorry.  Then  she  clapped  her  hands 
with  a  sheer  joy  it  seemed.  "And  my  little  gown 
that  came  from  Paris?  Ah,  m'sieu,  you  neve' 


ISLE    BONNE  47 

thought  that?  One  time  I  went  to  the  opera  in 
N'Awlyins — oh,  very  fine  it  was!  I  stayed  at  my 
grand-aunt's,  Madam  Beauvais'  on  the  Esplanade, 
and  went  to  a  ball  of  Comus.  Oh,  that  was  very 
fine,  too!  Madam  Beauvais  say  to  Papa  Prosper: 
'You  must  mortgage  some  land  so  Laure  can  have 
a  gown  from  Paris, — what  you  think  of  that, 
m'sieu?  Ah,  and  then  back  to  Isle  Bonne  I  came 
like  Cinderella!" 

We  looked  after  them,  Clell  laughing  as  they  dis 
cussed  gowns  and  the  eccentricities  of  tree-frawgs. 
Virgil's  old  wist  fulness  came :  "That  boy — he  cain't 
make  me  hate  him — after  all." 

Papa  Prosper  offered  more  coffee  and  sighed  over 
his  tree-hop. 

"Dat  frawg,  m'sieu,  is  crazy  fo'  conversation. 
Wan  time  I  held  cou't,  and  fo'  times  I  told  my  con 
stable  to  chase  dat  frawg  off  my  rain  barrel." 

"You— a  justice?" 

Papa  stirred  his  coffee.  "Fo'  times  I  been  elected, 
m'sieu.  I  neve'  yet  got  up  to  the  riveh  to  qualify, 
but  they  keep  on  electin'  me.  Wan  time  I  had  a 
marryin'.  A  Manilaman  from  Grand  Lake  and  a 
Chino  lady  from  Bassa  Bassa  camp.  Dat  lady  she 
say:  'Papa,  huccome  yo'  marry  us  w'en  yo'  no  got 
no  papeh  fo'  justice?'  So  to  please  dat  lady  I  got 


48  JOHN    THE    FOOL 

out  my  seed  catalogue.  Dat  Manilaman  say.  'Yo' 
sho'  dis  marryin'  stick  on  dat  seed  book?'  I  say: 
'Cou'se  she  stick — you  go  home  and  see  if  she  not 
stick.'  M'sieu,  she  stuck  fine — dat  lady  got  six  ba 
bies  now,  and  five  shares  in  wan  shrimp  seine." 

We  passed  a  sunlit  day.  To  the  landing  of  my 
friend  Prosper  come  all  the  lake  and  bayou  folk, 
shrimp  skiffs,  trade  boats,  pirogues,  derelict  house 
boats  from  the  great  river  to  the  North — from 
Barataria  to  Butte  La  Rose,  from  Isle  Grande  to 
Whisky  Bay — from  the  orange  groves  of  the  lower 
coast  to  the  sugar  plantations  of  Terrebonne — the 
wanderers  came  to  throw  a  head-line  to  the  wharf, 
"holler  out"  the  justice  and  stay,  some  ten  minutes 
to  drip  coffee ;  some  five  years  to  catch  the  crabs  and 
muskrat.  Papa  sat  on  his  gallerie  and  welcomed — • 
and  waved  them  amiably  on.  Of  course  the  Yan 
kees — well,  one  never  could  tell  about  Yankees. 
They  were  an  uncertain  lot,  forever  diving  off  in  the 
deep  swamp  with  blue-prints,  and  unloading  ma 
chinery  on  their  forlorn  landing  in  the  sun-beaten 
cane  around  Point  Coquille,  and  cursing  the  mos 
quitoes  and  the  heat  and  the  damp  and  the  snakes 
and  the  cajuns — and  then  coming  out  to  sit  on 
Papa's  tranquil  gallerie  and  watch  Laure  who  didn't 
know  how  to  be  rich  when  she  was.  Papa,  the  ad- 


ISLE    BONNE  49 

venturous  soul,  would  have  traveled — at  least  as 
far  as  Mawgan  City;  but  Laure?  She  preferred  to 
sit  here  and  watch  curiously  these  profane  strangers. 

"I  would  like  to  see  dat  Sheecawgo,"  went  on 
Prosper.  "Wan  time  Ettienne  he  work  for  the  fish 
commish,  and  dey  took  him  to  Washington.  Sooch 
sights  he  tell  me  of.  Dat  government — Ettienne 
say  sooch  a  dome  he  got !  And  dat  prasident !  Et 
tienne  say  he  walk  right  in  and  look  up  dat  dome — 
sacre — so  high!  Ettienne  he  say  neve'  he  think  he 
see  dat.  Dat  prasident  he  sit  at  one  end  makin'  laws 
and  dat  congress  he  sit  at  odder  end  makin'  laws, 
and  Ettienne  say  sooch  talk  neve'  could  he  make 
out.  M'sieu,  I  sho'  lak  to  see  dat  prasident  and 
his  dome — I  believe  so." 

He  sighed  and  looked  at  the  wilful  wood  saint 
who  would  not  travel  for  fear  Yankees  would  come 
and  cut  her  mighty  trees,  putting  pull-boats  along 
the  shell  shores  with  steel  cables  like  the  tentacles 
of  horrible  monsters  to  tear  out  the  life-blood  from 
the  forest's  heart,  turning  the  lilied  pools  to  slime 
with  their  dirty  rafts  and  quarter-boats.  And  the 
drainage  ditches,  little  better  with  their  black  mud 
levees  traveling  the  iridescent  sheen  of  the  trembling 
prairies  that  had  stirred  at  nothing  before  save  the 
whir  of  the  wild  duck's  wing  and  the  pirogue  run- 


50  JOHN   THE   FOOL 

ner's  paddle.  She  had  been  quizzing  Clell  in  my 
absence.  She  greeted  me  with  quite  friendly 
glances ;  it  was  only  for  the  land  boss  that  her  scorn 
was  reserved. 

"Ah,  I  show  you  my  garden,  M'sieu  Doctor — 
and  you" — she  put  out  her  brown  hand  with  rare 
sudden  gaiety  to  Clell.  "My  poor  little  bees  tum 
bling  down  all  a-time  in  their  houses  into  the  black 
water  I" 

Poor  swamp  bees  indeed!  Never  would  Papa 
Prosper  wade  out  to  put  new  stilts  under  their 
hives.  The  decayed  boxes  hung  at  all  angles  in  a 
wild  sweet  tangle  of  iris,  red  flags,  palms,  banana 
trees,  figs  and  hyacinths;  and  over  them  the  orioles 
and  scarlet  tanagers  flitted  in  the  crepe  myrtle  and 
jasmine  clambering  the  ancient  trunks  to  the  gloom 
of  the  moss. 

"Le  Bon  Dieu,  He  looked  after  my  bees,  but 
somehow  we  neve'  get  any  honey.  Papa  say  some 
time  he  read  his  seed  catalogue  and  see  what  it  say 
about  honey — if  it  marry  folks  so  well,  it  sho'  ought 
to  know  about  honey."  And  she  glanced  up  brightly 
at  the  tall  young  Yankee.  "If  I  marry  a  man  he 
got  to  know  all  about  honey." 

I  left  them  in  that  swamp  garden  with  the  dron 
ing  of  the  bees  and  the  flit  of  the  tanagers  about 


ISLE    BONNE  51 

them — what  had  I  to  do  with  honey  ?  I  got  my  feet 
well  wet  trying  to  get  back  to  Papa  Prosper's  gal- 
lerie,  for  the  passage  from  the  bee  garden  was  along 
the  bottom  of  an  overturned  dugout  across  two 
broken  iron  kettles.  If  you  fell  off  this  bridge  the 
kettles  were  thoughtfully  filled  with  water  to  receive 
you.  I  was  sleepy  and  annoyed.  Papa  Prosper  had 
already  excused  himself  for  his  siesta.  Virgil  sat 
back  against  the  rail,  his  sombrero  over  his  eyes. 
The  warmth,  the  droning  bees,  the  traitorous  con 
tent  of  Laure's  isle — well,  I  couldn't  keep  an  eye 
open  longer,  and  was  off,  sitting  in  my  chair. 

A  mosquito  it  was  that  brought  me  out  of  that 
warm  and  sticky  nap.  One  of  the  big,  deep-sea  go 
ing  mosquitoes  speeding  from  out  the  western  gulf 
marshes,  a  herald  of  the  oncoming  evening  hordes. 
He  hit  me  squarely  on  the  nose  and  I  opened  my 
eyes  upon  a  splash  of  gold  which  was  the  sun  level 
over  the  lake.  And  I  rubbed  my  eyes  again  to  stare 
at  the  phantasmagoria  that  an  hour  had  wrought. 
The  mirrored  water  had  disappeared  from  the  cove ; 
it  was  a  wondrous  garden  of  deep  purple  and  waxy 
green  from  shore  to  shore,  the  wild  hyacinths  mov 
ing  slowly,  a  tide  of  bloom  drifting  from  out  the 
sweet  water  of  the  upper  swamp  to  die  in  the  salt 
passes  of  the  gulf.  And  far  beyond  the  barrier  I 


52  JOHN   THE   FOOL 

heard  Laure  singing.  I  saw  her  now — the  two  of 
them  in  her  tiny  green  pirogue,  a  slender  needle 
boat  that  seemed  to  quiver  beneath  dell's  weight. 
It  was  never  fashioned  for  two — unless,  perhaps, 
for  lovers. 

Virgil  sat  across  the  gallerie  rail  regarding  me. 
I  knew  he  had  just  turned  from  the  two  in  the 
canoe  when  he  heard  my  stir. 

"The  launch  is  comin',"  he  said  quietly.  "I  can 
hear  her  motor.  We'll  get  to  our  own  camp  to 
night.  Redfield" — he  motioned  to  the  hyacinth 
blockade — "we'll  pick  him  up  outside  the  lilies — she 
cain't  get  in  till  the  drift  passes." 

"They  don't  seem  to  care,"  I  answered — "either 
of  them." 

The  Texan  looked  up  slowly  and  in  silence;  then 
his  patient  smile  came. 

"Doctor  Dick,"  he  went  on  at  length,  "I  stepped 
aside  once  fo'  him — that  town  man.  I  played  square 
with  him — fo'  Mary's  sake.  I  brought  him  down 
here — fo'  Mary's  sake.  Now  I  wondeh  what  sort  of 
stuff  is  in  him — if  he  can  play  square  with  me.  I 
stepped  aside  fo'  him." 

"Virgil,"  I  retorted,  "do  you  love  her — this 
girl?" 


ISLE    BONNE  53 

"Cain't  you  see?  When  they  sent  me  down  here 
to  put  through  the  ditches  she  was  a  little  thing,  all 
eyes  and  laigs,  who  used  to  peek  out  of  this  do'  at 
the  Yankees  who  were  tryin'  to  buy  the  land.  Then 
we  started  to  work  behind  the  island,  and  then  the 
big  fight  came.  And  I  hung  on  when  the  rest  quit. 
I  stuck  on  the  job  when  the  big  stawm  came  and 
the  sea  went  ove'  Isle  Bonne  eight  feet  deep.  She 
was  a  little  thing,  and  I  carried  her  to  the  boats — 
and  she  neve'  fo'gave  me  fo'  puttin'  hands  on  her. 
And  then  I  watched  her  grow;  and  all  the  time  we 
drove  the  ditches  through  her  prairie,  she  hated  me. 
I  thought,  maybe — well,  we  neve'  could  make  'em 
take  a  dolleh  in  compromise,  so  the  directors  fought 
it  to  the  finish  with  Prosper's  lawyers.  And  the 
finish'll  come  now — they'll  lose — and  I'm  the  man 
that  did  it.  She  hates  me — I'm  the  land  pirate. 
She's  neve'  let  me  say  two  words  to  her.  If  she 
could  beat  me  maybe  I'd  have  a  chance.  And  now, 
Redfield — well,  he's  a  town  man,  and  he  can  talk." 
He  was  still,  looking  into  the  wall  of  gray-mossed 
cypress  above  the  white  shell  beaches  of  Isle  Bonne. 
"And  I  promised  Mary  I'd  send  him  back  to  her — 
a  man.  Yes,  seh — fo'  Mary!" 

The  wood  saint  was  waving  gaily  to  me  from  the 


54  JOHN   THE    FOOL 

flower-locked  prison.  When  she  noticed  Virgil,  her 
hand  was  still.  Around  the  point  the  rescuing 
launch  was  speeding;  she  watched  it  with  hostile 
interest. 


CHAPTER  IV 

THE  BARON 

I  SLEPT  that  night  on  some  ill-smelling  blankets 
under  a  mosquito  bar  in  a  corrugated  iron  shack 
after  a  rush  eastward  from  Isle  Bonne  woods 
through  a  shadowy  lake,  about  a  far  marsh  point 
and  then  up  a  forty- foot  canal  which  turned  west 
ward  again  through  an  illimitable  stretch  of  prairie 
cane  behind  the  island. 

We  had  retired  in  the  starlight  and  in  such  si 
lence  as  you  of  the  town  can  not  dream  of.  Some 
where  to  southward  was  the  murmur  of  the  gulf, 
faint,  eerie,  hardly  a  breath  on  the  still  air.  But 
the  morning  showed  that  we  were  at  the  abandoned 
pumping  plant  of  the  Prairie  Meadows  Land  Com 
pany,  and  westward  from  it  the  canal  still  ran  like 
a  bright  arrow  through  the  rozo  cane  which  was 
tawny  and  green  and  all  alive  with  flecks  of  sun 
and  shade  and  rustlings  in  the  breeze.  A  narrow 
ridge  of  black  earth  followed  the  canal  to  the  van- 

55 


56  JOHN   THE   FOOL 

ishing  point  either  way;  just  here  the  channel  wid 
ened  to  a  basin  about  which  were  great  heaps  of 
plunder  under  the  iron  roofed  sheds.  Sacks  of  con 
crete,  barrels  of  cement,  lumber,  coal,  oil  tanks  and 
machinery  ill-housed  and  rusted  and  with  grass 
growing  forlornly  in  crevices  where  the  birds  had 
scattered  seed ;  a  cook-house  with  the  windows  dirty 
and  staring — over  it  all  the  silence  of  failure,  the 
man's  size  job  hung  as  at  a  dismal  gibbet. 

I  found  Williams  looking  down  in  a  twenty-five 
foot  excavation  where  the  scummy  pools  covered 
the  frames  of  the  first  concrete  he  had  sunk  about 
his  piling  before  the  directors  halted  his  attack.  A 
single  old  colored  man  was  with  him,  the  watchman 
of  the  deserted  plant,  who  was  explaining  some  af 
fair  of  the  previous  week. 

"Dey  done  shot  at  me,  Misteh  Williams."  The 
old  fellow  raised  his  stick  and  pointed  northward 
to  the  blue  wall  of  cypress  which  was  the  nearer 
side  of  Laure's  isle :  "Yes,  suh — dey  done  snuck  out 
o'  John-the-Fool  and  gib  me  mah  wa'nin.'  Fust 
dey  gib  me  mah  sign,  and  den  dey  shot." 

"Who  did?" 

"Dem  ole  pirate  folkses.  Nex'  boat  Ah'm  goin' 
out  front  to  de  river — neveh  no  good  come  outen 
dem  Drouillots  fo'  culled  folks.  Reckon  ole  Ar- 


THE    BARON  57 

mand's  ghost  done  snuck  back  when  yo'  start  to  cut- 
tin'  up  his  island.'' 

"Uncle  Piney,  you  go  get  us  some  breakfast," 
Virgil  said,  and  smiled  at  me  aside.  "I'll  send  you 
out  front  if  you  want  to  go."  But  when  the  old 
fellow  had  hobbled  away,  the  land  boss'  face  grew 
long.  "Last  nigger  I  could  keep  on  the  job  here — 
the  old  yarns  about  this  place  got  them  clean  scared 
away."  He  looked  about  the  abandoned  plant,  and 
the  old  patient  twitch  came  to  his  lean  lips.  "All 
right.  This  ain't  my  doin'.  Up  the  ditch,  Doctor 
Dick — see  that  smoke?  That's  me — that  old  mud- 
hook.  That  levee  is  goin'  up  clean  to  seaward  by 
September  or  the's  one  Texas  man  I  know'll  be 
planted.  That's  me — personal  and  specified— or- 
dehs  or  no  ordehs.  I'm  saving  that  option  on  ten 
thousand  acres  that  the  company  was  willin'  to  let 
slide." 

A  tiny  plume  of  smoke  to  the  west  was  all  the 
sign  of  life  in  that  green  and  yellow  silence — the 
clam-shell  dredge  fighting  at  the  end  of  the  unfin 
ished  canal.  One  man  had  not  quit  of  all  the 
quitters. 

We  walked  about  the  melancholy  ruin  and  break 
fasted  in  the  shade  of  Uncle  Piney's  shack  with  the 
stinging  black  gnats  dancing  in  one's  vision.  Clcll 


58  JOHN    THE    FOOL 

had  hardly  spoken,  even  to  me  this  morning;  it 
seemed  the  specter  of  failure  sat  grinning  at  him 
also. 

"Those  New  York  fel-los  don't  know  the  dredge 
is  runnin'.  They  told  me  to  lay  her  up  with  the 
work  on  the  pumps." 

"Well,"  I  put  in,  "just  how  did  you  get  the 
money  ?" 

"Money?"  he  smiled  benignly,  as  one  might  to 
foolish  questions  of  finance  from  a  child.  "Nobody's 
got  any  money — much.  Big  Jim  and  the  fel-los  on 
the  dredge — why,  they  just  believe — that's  all.  And 
I  got  oil  on  my  word  that  I'd  win — Doctor  Dick, 
I  just  made  'em  see." 

I  took  a  stalk  of  cane  and  walked  out  past  the 
sheds  where  eighty  thousand  dollars'  worth  of  ma 
chinery  were  rusting  and  two  thousand  sacks  of 
cement  were  turning  to  stone,  and  thrust  it  down  in 
the  salt  swamp  ooze  outside  the  levee.  There  was 
no  bottom;  the  stuff  was  thinner  every  foot  of  the 
way. 

"I  understand  now,  the  story  of  the  baby  buggy," 
I  said  dryly.  "Virgil,  have  you  the  nerve  to  say 
that  some  day  you'll  sell  this  for  farms?" 

"Yes,  seh.  If  I  have  to  stand  'em  on  end  and 
dry  'em  out." 


THE    BARON  59 

"It's  just  as  well,"  I  went  on,  "that  the  board  of 
directors  have  never  seen  it.  I  couldn't  quite  an 
swer  for  them." 

The  Texan  looked  gravely  at  me.   "Seh  ?" 

"I'm  glad  I  came  down  to  inspect  it  instead  of 
Mr.  Driscoll." 

"The'  was  a  man  on  the  Brazos  once  who  insinu 
ated  that  I  was  a  crook,"  continued  the  man  from 
the  short-grass  country.  "Sho',  I  hate  to  tell  about 
it — only  the  coroner's  jury  acquitted  me,  Doctor. 
But  I  reckon  I  can  see  what  you  mean.  One  of 
the  people  that  bought  stock  was  a  widda  woman— 
and  some  friends  of  mine;  so  if  I  lose,  I'm  a  crook. 
All  right — I  take  the  chance." 

And  when  we  were  off  again  in  the  launch  speed 
ing  up  the  canal  to  the  vanishing  point  in  the  float 
ing  prairie,  the  Texan  pointed  southward.  "Some 
times,  when  the  sea  comes  up  outside,  you  can  al 
most  feel  this  floteau  shake  with  the  poundin'. 
When  the  big  stawms  come,  it's  a  right  lonesome 
country." 

I  well  believed.  In  half  an  hour  we  swept  out 
of  the  canal  into  a  great  pool  that  stretched  north 
ward  into  the  fringe  of  the  moss-plumed  woods. 
A  mere  cove  it  was,  but  beyond  it  I  thought  there 
was  a  house,  perched,  after  the  fashion  of  the 


60  JOHN   THE   FOOL 

swamp  dwellers,  on  stilts  above  the  storm  tides  and 
the  black  swamp  water.  The  Texan  stopped  the 
launch  abruptly  between  the  overhanging  walls  of 
wild  cane  with  the  smoke  plume  far  ahead.  I  saw 
in  the  last  fringe  of  the  dying  forest,  two  great 
brick  chimneys  rearing  above  some  patches  of  man 
grove.  We  floated  slowly  on  toward  the  forest 
cove. 

The  Texan  raised  his  hand.  'They  tried  plantin' 
once — cane  and  rice,  and  then  the  sea  came  in  on 
'em  in  '54.  The'  was  a  big  sugar  house  and  a 
dwellin'  somewhere  here  where  old  Pierre  Drouillot 
worked  his  niggers.  But  I  expaict  he  wasn't  any 
better  than  the  rest  of  'em — the  old  pirate  ones. 
Now,  Prosper,  hangin'  on  to  his  shell  ridge  on  the 
other  side  the  island  and  fishin'  his  crabs,  is  a  gen 
tleman — only  he  ain't  any  manneh  of  sense.  He 
hung  on  to  his  swamp  here  for  fo'ty  years  fo'  no 
other  reason  than  because  it  was  give  to  'em  by  the 
king  of  Spain.  That's  the  word  he  sent  the  cou't — 
he  ain't  no  manneh  of  sense.  And  Laure — well,  I 
don't  know.  I  got  no  call  to  fight  a  laidy." 

He  was  staring  ahead  from  the  launch  and  spoke 
as  if  to  himself:  "Stawms  and  stockbrokers  and 
women — a  man  cain't  stop  fo'  'em."  He  looked 
curiously  again  into  the  forest  cove:  "And  while 


THE    BARON  61 

we're  passin'  I'll  introduce  you  to  the  Baron  of 
John-the-Fool.  I  expaict  I  will." 

"The  baron?" 

He  smiled  with  his  gentle  tolerance,  even  at  Clell 
who  would  not  greet  him.  Then,  swinging  the 
wheel  over,  the  boat  drifted  on  into  this  glade  of  the 
sunken  forest.  On,  a  hundred  yards  and  we  were 
enclosed  by  the  sepulchral  cypress.  I  can  not  de 
scribe  the  sensation  of  the  change  from  the  glitter 
of  the  prairie  to  that  spot  of  silence.  The  spikes  of 
the  huge  trees  thrust  up  out  of  the  black  clear 
water,  and  to  them  hung  the  fantastic  moss  plumes. 
Only  one  thing  of  color  relieved  the  gray-brown 
light  of  the  flooded  woods  and  that  was  the  latanier 
palms — a  single  clump  of  which  sat  with  an  unreal 
stage  effect  behind  the  platform  to  which  we  had 
drifted.  On  that  platform,  hung  from  trunk  to 
trunk  above  the  water,  sat  a  slab  and  palmetto  hut 
with  a  mud  chimney  rising  at  one  end.  To  the  cy 
press  spikes  beneath  was  moored  a  flat-end  John- 
boat  in  which  sat  a  lank  pointer-pup  apparently 
waiting  for  some  one  to  assist  him  up  to  his  aerial 
home. 

"Hi,  you  poor  web-footed  kyoodle,"  murmured 
Virgil,  "where  is  the  baron?" 

The  kyoodle  grinned  innocently.    Virgil  lifted  the 


62  JOHN    THE    FOOL 

johnboat  paddle  and  slammed  it  mightily  upon  the 
boards.  And  there  waddled  out  of  the  swamp 
shack  the  most  curious  figure  of  a  man  I  had  ever 
seen.  Vast  and  rotund  was  he,  with  a  faded  sash 
of  silken  brilliance  about  his  waist,  and  in  his  green 
hat  was  stuck  a  rooster  feather.  He  removed  a 
remarkable  pipe  from  his  mouth,  and  then  bowed 
down  to  us,  with  astounding  ease,  seeing  that  the 
effort  made  him  wheeze  and  all  but  wrinkled  his 
eyes  shut.  Then  one  of  them  popped  wide  open, 
brightly  upon  us ;  and  his  vast  roguish  laughter  fol 
lowed. 

"Ah,  the  gentlemen  have  arrived !  Allesjandro — 
assist  the  gentlemen!"  He  pounded  on  the  plat 
form.  "You  will  pardon  me,  messieurs,  but  my 
pipe — eh,  my  pipe!  It  is  twenty- four  inches  long 
and  twenty-four  years  old,  and  must  be  smoked 
with  extreme  care.  A  pipe,  messieurs,  to  go  with 
good  wine,  friends  and  talk  of  women  we  have 
loved.  Allesjandro — attendez!" 

And  around  that  shack  came  the  manikin  Ma- 
nilaman  who  had  brought  us -to  Isle  Bonne  in  his 
lugger  yesterday.  I  was  astonished.  Allesjandro 
crowed  with  delight.  Ah,  the  Senors — certainly! 
He  reached  a  boat-hook  to  Virgil's  craft,  jabbering 


THE    BARON  63 

in  Spanish-French  and  execrable  English.  Wel 
come  to  the  baron's.  Yes — yes — he  had  told  all 
about  us;  his  master  was  delighted;  we  must  come 
up  for  coffee  and  conversation.  He  gave  us  a  hand, 
two  hands — anything. 

His  master  gave  us  a  benign  eye.  There  was 
a  rare  air  of  the  world  in  the  salutation  in  the  mid 
dle  of  that  impossible  swamp.  And  a  bit  of  the 
clown,  too,  as  he  twiddled  the  shank  of  his  pipe. 
He  surveyed  us  from  a  benevolent  amplitude  of 
satisfaction  with  himself  and  with  fortune;  so  a 
good  round  monk  might  have  hastened  to  succor 
two  wayfarers  to  his  shelter  for  the  night.  What 
with  the  length  of  his  pipe  and  the  width  of  his 
stomach  he  had  some  trouble  in  passing  his  door — 
but  he  welcomed  us  there  with  a  mischievous  grace. 

Outside  Virgil  was  tying  his  boat  to  one  of  the 
crazy  piles  supporting  the  baronial  hall.  The  baron 
waved  to  him  condescendingly. 

"My  good  friend — and  bad  luck  to  him  and  his 
schemes — has  not  introduced  us  as  gracefully  as  he 
might.  You  are  Doctor  Richard  Rainey,  and  this  is 
Mr.  Redfield — is  it  not  so?  I  am  Baron  John  de 
Vedrinnes — there  is  a  good  deal  more  to  it,  but  let 
that  be.  Welcome !" 


64  JOHN    THE    FOOL 

"How" — I  nearly  gasped — "did  you  know  us?" 

"Ah!"  He  closed  his  jester's  eye  and  grew  apo 
plectic.  "Le  marquise !" 

And  he  bowed  again,  after  the  fashion  of  a  por 
poise  that  recalled  its  dancing  lessons  of  a  previous 
incarnation.  Then  I  saw  behind  him  a  small  and 
not  at  all  unpleasing  breakfast  table  laid  and  at  it, 
regarding  us  with  complete  composure,  our  hunter 
of  honey  of  Isle  Bonne. 

The  baron  exploded  with  his  appreciation  of  our 
surprise.  He  held  his  sides — and  the  pipe.  Alles- 
jandro,  with  fervent  pleasure,  was  drawing  chairs 
for  us.  Virgil  came  in,  took  off  his  hat  with  some 
amiable  patience  at  this  foolery,  and  merely  watched 
us. 

Laure,  presiding  at  the  coffee — and  I  recall  what 
a  mass  of  rare  and  battered  old  bronze  was  the 
baron's  coffee  urn — looked  with  long  sidewise  de- 
mureness  at  dell's  reaching  for  a  place  beside  her. 

"I  told  him  all  about  you.  Two  Yankee  fel-los. 
And  he  was  in  the  awmy,  and  the  Yankees  he  has 
killed — it  isn't  polite  to  speak  about  at  breakfast." 

"How  did  you  get  here?"  we  burst  out  together, 
disregarding  that  melancholy  reminder  of  the  baron 
and  other  Yankee  fel-los. 

"My  running  pirogue — through  the  deep  swamp. 


THE    BARON  65 

There  were  some  honey  bees  swarming,  and  Papa 
Prosper,  he  just  let  them  go  which-away." 

Follow  a  honey  bee  through  that  fantastic  swamp ! 
I  sat  down  and  regarded  her.     She  was  cutting 
bread.     Virgil  eyed  her  with  patience.     She  had 
not  spoken  to  him.     Then  I  saw  Allesjandro,  be 
hind  the  master's  chair,  motioning  for  silence.    The 
baron  had  closed  his  eyes  and  was  growling  a  long 
Latin  prayer.    I  closed  one  eye — the  other  was  upon 
Laure — who  also  had  one  closed.    Merely  one — the 
other    winked    at    Allesjandro.      On    that  prayer 
droned.    It  was  interminable.    The  baron  appeared 
to  claw  it  out  of  his  whiskers,  but  the  rich  old 
medieval  phrases  never   faltered.     Yet,  at  length, 
I  was  sure  he  was  laughing.     Then  Laure  mani 
festly    giggled.      And    the    majordomo    suddenly 
howled  with  glee.    Then  they  all  roared.    Clell  and 
I  opened  our  eyes  injuredly.     Virgil  had  a  calm 
smile. 

The  joke  was  on  us.  The  Baron  de  Vedrinnes 
was  protesting  his  apologies.  "Ah,  that  Babisch! 
Gentlemen,  I  am  trying  to  pay  off  my  score  with 
him.  He  was  my  tutor  in  Hungary — that  damned 
Capuchin.  Four  hundred  florins  a  year  and  his 
wine  he  got  for  mauling  his  prayers  into  me — and 
after  eighty  years  I  can  not  forget  a  word  of  them. 


66  JOHN    THE    FOOL 

That  was  what  I  got  when  I  was  a  boy — dingdong 
— singsong — and  now  I  can  not  refrain.  Four  hun 
dred  florins  and  all  the  wine  he  could  drink,  got 
Babisch — and  when  he  had  his  wine  first,  the  pray 
ers  were  twice  as  long !" 

He  wiped  his  eyes;  it  was  rude  to  a  guest,  but 
life  was  made  to  joke  at.  There  was  a  mosquito 
on  my  neck — would  I  allow  him  courteously  to  burn 
it  off  with  his  hot  pipe?  Ah,  there  it  was  done — 
and  a  mere  blister  would  not  matter !  No  one  could 
love  a  Barataria  mosquito — no,  no !  There  were  too 
many  of  them — there  would  not  be  enough  love  to 
go  around ! 

Then  he  went  on  complacently  to  tell  of  himself. 
No  one  else  got  in  a  word.  He  told  of  his  youth  in 
a  military  school  in  Buda-pest,  and  how,  later,  in 
some  political  troubles  of  the  forties,  he  had  had  to 
leave  Hungary.  There  was  a  hint  of  a  woman,  and 
he  winked  with  vast  wickedness.  Then  he  wan 
dered  about  Europe,  a  penniless  soldier  of  for 
tune,  and  came  to  America,  entering  a  Florida  regi 
ment  of  the  Confederacy  in  the  Civil  War.  Then 
he  made  a  fortune  in  the  Louisiana  lottery,  and 
when  that  concern  was  squelched,  he  lost  it.  He 
had  been  a  slave  runner,  privateer,  gambler,  what 
not — and  it  was  all  good.  Life  had  been  a  pageant 


THE    BARON  67 

and  he  had  seen ;  a  brawl  and  he  had  fought ;  a  kiss 
and  he  had  the  sweetness;  but  why  now,  he  was 
retired  to  the  abysmal  forest  of  Isle  Bonne — ah, 
that,  he  did  not  tell  us ! 

But  life  was  still  good  when  he  could  wear  his 
rooster's  feather  in  a  green  hat,  and  burn  mosqui 
toes  off  of  Yankee  necks  with  a  hot  pipe.  Ah,  yes — 
accept  the  rice  jambalaya,  the  coffee  and  bread  and 
shrimp.  His  man  Friday — the  butler-fisherman, 
Allesjandro,  just  now  squirming  so  delightedly  be 
hind  his  chair — he  and  God  saw  to  it  somehow,  that 
there  was  enough  to  eat;  and  when  the  palmetto 
roof  of  the  baronial  hall  leaked,  the  baron  merely 
ordered  his  bed  moved  from  the  larger  leaks  to  the 
smaller  ones  and  played  his  phonograph  under  the 
mosquito  bar  until  the  morning. 

We  listened  to  all  this  and  it  was  the  last  touch 
to  the  impossible  adventure.  The  baron  was  grati 
fied  that  we  had  come — we  gentlemen  of  the  great 
world.  No  one  came  to  see  him  except  his  Cajun- 
Filipino  neighbors  from  the  far  chenieres  over  the 
south  coast  marshes.  And  they  were  shy  furtive 
men  with  whom  one  could  not  speak  of  affairs  of 
chancellories  and  empire  demarcations.  He  would 
put  us  up — we  must  stay  a  week,  a  month — a  year? 
There  was  an  amazing  deal  to  talk  of. 


68  JOHN    THE    FOOL 

I  couldn't  get  in  a  word.  No  one  could.  The 
baron  shot  quite  about  the  globe  in  his  archaic  re 
lation  of  events  and  surmises.  I  answered  as  best 
I  could,  numberless  questions.  How  was  that  affair 
in  the  Balkans?  And  the  stealing  of  Mona  Lisa? 
Who  was  Franz  Joseph's  ambassador  at  Washing 
ton  now?  And  did  we  like  Barataria,  the  legend- 
haunted  ? 

Our  small  wood  saint  listened  with  condescend 
ing  composure  as  she  poured  the  cafe  au  lait  con 
dense.  After  all  the  world's  way  from  crabs  to 
courts  was  not  so  far;  she  could  well  send  Antoine 
on  and  on  to  be  a  barbeh,  and  still  be  the  confidante 
of  nobility. 

Our  noble  friend  waved  Allesjandro  aside  when 
he  pressed  us  with  more  of  his  rice  jambalaya. 
"Our  guests  have  breakfasted,  they  say.  That  is, 
perhaps,  our  fortune — we  had  reckoned  on  but 
enough  for  three.  And  mademoiselle,  she  will  have 
a  famous  relish  after  her  five  o'clock  pursuit  of  her 
honey  bees." 

I  was  watching  them  both,  and  I  can  not  explain 
just  what  firm  conviction  entered  my  mind  that 
Laure's  honey  bees  were  a  myth.  No — no!  There 
was  a  mystery  here.  Allesjandro's  ingenuous  grin 
at  his  master  confirmed  it. 


THE    BARON  69 

"Curious,"  drawled  Virgil,  "but  I  never  saw  a 
honey  bee  in  the  deep  swamp — beyond  the  f orty-ar- 
pent  line.  They's  mostly  on  the  cheniere." 

She  gave  him  a  grimace ;  he  did  not  believe — and 
she  knew  it.  The  honey  bees  were  clearly  to  delude 
Yankee  fel-los.  Virgil,  she  feared,  and  was  trying 
to  detest — that  was  also  clear.  Was  not  his  black 
monster  of  a  dredge  tearing  the  heart  from  her 
beloved  island?  Still,  there  was  more  than  this — 
much  more.  I  tried  to  guess  at  it,  as  she  devoted  her 
demure  interest  to  Clell;  she  drew  him  out  of  his 
moroseness — he  laughed  aloud  again  with  her. 

Virgil  suddenly  pushed  back  his  chair.  "Well,  we 
got  to  shag  along,  Doctor  Dick.  The  new  man — " 
he  looked  easily  at  Clell :  "Big  Jim  is  waitin'  f  o'  to 
organize  his  new  crew." 

The  baron  followed  us  to  the  edge  of  his  plat 
form  with  many  protests — yet  I  was  sure  he  was 
pleased  that  we  were  gone.  He  waved  his  pipe 
airily:  "Adieu,  messieurs." 

And  his  protegee  shook  her  head.  "All  a-time 
when  honey  bees  run  away,  they  make  so  much  trou 
ble.  We  very  busy,  messieurs !" 

Clell  came  back  to  her  suddenly  and  took  her 
hands:  "Ah,  but  Mademoiselle  Laure,  it  is  going 
to  be  lonesome  here — very;  and  could  I  come  to 


70  JOHN   THE    FOOL 

see  you  sometime?  Even  if  I  am,  you  know — a — 
Yankee,  and  a  robber — and  all  that  sort  of  thing?" 

He  was  eager  and  like  his  old  self  of  the  years 
gone,  and  my  heart  stirred  to  see  them  laughing 
together.  The  girl  was  confused  by  him  a  bit,  and 
then  blithe  with  new  adventure. 

"M'sieu,  you  may.  Only  please,  not  here  at  John- 
the-Fool."  She  looked  curiously  at  the  Baron  de 
Vedrinnes  who  listened  like  a  fond  Newfoundland 
to  his  mistress'  voice :  "But  around  my  island  where 
the  lilies  are,  and  the  shell  beaches  and  the  oaks  of 
the  cheniere.  Oh,  there  I  might  show  you  many 
things.  And  M'sieu  le  Doctor,  also." 

She  had  no  word  for  Virgil.  He  waited  gravely 
at  the  launch's  engine,  and  when  we  were  in,  sent 
it  out  of  the  forest  cove  into  the  hot  glitter  of  the 
salt  marsh  without  word.  It  must  have  been  two 
miles  down  that  monotonous  ditch  that  we  came  to 
the  black  dredge  that  filled  the  end.  We  ran  along 
side  past  the  red  quarter-boat  that  had  housed  the 
crew.  A  tall  man  came  out  of  the  cavernous  depths 
from  the  engines,  wiping  his  hands,  and  of  Clell  and 
me  he  took  not  the  smallest  notice.  His  steady  eyes 
were  on  the  land  boss. 

"Well,  they  got  another.  Hogjaw  took  to  the 
swamp." 


THE    BARON  71 

The  Texan's  level  glance  went  to  the  boiler-room. 
" Who's  firin'?" 

"Nobody.  Brinton  went  out  with  a  fever. 
Weed  broke  his  arm  last  Tuesday.  And  now,  Hog- 
jaw — he  was  my  last  nigger." 

There  was  a  silence.  And  again  I  seemed  to  vi 
sion  the  specter  of  failure  limned  out  of  the  brassy 
sky  above  the  dying  land.  A  crow  was  cawing 
blatantly  in  a  sunbaked  and  leprous  cypress  over 
the  line  of  glistening  mud;  a  snowy  egret  wheeled 
against  the  intolerable  blue. 

"I  sent  out  front  for  some  new  niggers.  Couldn't 
get  one.  Crump  sent  his  warnin'  out  front  to  'em. 
The  voodoo  sign,  and  then  somebody  fired  a  load  of 
buckshot  into  the  last  bunch  of  niggers  that  we  tried 
to  get  from  the  river.  That's  what  got  Hog  jaw — 
somebody  sent  him  a  sign  when  they  heard  he'd 
come  to  work  for  the  Williams  outfit." 

The  boss  of  the  Williams  outfit  regarded  his  en 
gineer  quizzically.  "I  told  you  to  cut  loose  at  any 
nigger  that  come  near  the  dredge  without  ordehs." 

"I  never  saw  'em.  They  must  have  sneaked  out 
of  Isle  Bonne  and  give  Hogjaw  his  sign.  Anyhow, 
he  blew  this  morning." 

"Take  a  gun?" 

"Stole  your  double-barrel." 


72  JOHN   THE   FOOL 

"Well,"  Virgil  turned  aside  irrelevantly,  "this 
dredge  has  got  to  work.  We  cain't  lay  up  a  day, 
niggers  or  no  niggers." 

"I  know.  Mangy  and  I  tried  to  run  her  this 
morning — us  two.  I  put  Mangy  to  firing,  but  he 
had  to  quit  and  cook  dinner.  You'd  better  send 
out  front  for  a  white  fireman." 

"I  brought  a  man."  The  boss  indicated  Clell,  in 
differently. 

The  big  engineer  was  reading  my  young  friend 
with  pitiless  deliberation.  "We  can  bust  him  in, 
maybe." 

"We  got  to.  I'll  take  the  crane  myself.  Mangy 
will  stick.  I'll  get  another  watchman  for  the  pump 
plant — there's  nothing  doing  there  for — for  a  while. 
But  this  ditch" — his  eye  ran  ahead  through  the  dead 
forest  to  the  far  shine  of  the  pathless  prairie — 
"we'll  jam  her  through.  You'll  stick,  Jim  ?" 

"You  bet.  Say,  you  know  who's  doing  all  this 
dirt?"  Big  Jim  pointed  back  to  Isle  Bonne's  jun 
gle.  "That  bunch — the  baron,  and  her.  They  got 
your  niggers — they  got  'em  scared.  They're  going 
to  bust  you.  They'll  dynamite  this  outfit  if  they 
get  a  chance."  He  gestured  again  to  the  gray  wall 
of  the  swamp  isle.  "They'll  get  you,  too.  That 
bunch  is  as  much  pirates  as  their  great-grand-dads 


THE    BARON  73 

ever  was.  They  got  Crump  and  Hogjaw  and  ole 
Doc  Fortune  hiding  out  there — and  them  three's 
some  bad  niggers.  And  for  what — tell  me  ?" 

"I  expaict  they  don't  want  the  ditch  dug.  They 
just  think  they'll  wear  us  out  with  trouble  and  make 
us  lose  our  option.  I  reckon  their  lawyers  know 
our  directors  were  pretty  ready  to  throw  up  the 
game,  till  I — I  went  nawth  and  made  'em  stick." 

"That  isn't  it.  That  isn't  what  chases  our  nig 
gers  away.  It's  the  old  yarns  about  Isle  Bonne  and 
how  old  Armand  used  to  run  his  slave  ship  into  this 
cove  back  here  and  slit  their  necks  if  he  had  to,  to 
keep  'em  from  fallin'  into  the  government's  hands. 
You  couldn't  get  one  of  'em  into  Isle  Bonne  woods 
on  a  bet — they  don't  see  nothin'  but  pirates  and 
slavers  and  ghosts — and  let  me  tell  you  who's  doin' 
it— it's  the  baron." 

The  Texan  was  still  silently  contemplating  the 
latest  failure  on  the  man's  size  job. 

"Well,  I  cain't  stop  fo'  no  ghosts.  It's  costin' 
ninety  dollehs  a  day  to  lay  up,  and — "  he  broke  off, 
and  was  looking  at  Clell,  the  white-handed  and  im 
maculate  young  man  who  had  this  stony  hatred  for 
him.  I  knew  what  he  was  thinking;  he  had  figured 
his  personal  resources  to  the  last  precious  penny — 
that  two  thousand  dollars  he  had  paid  out  to  save 


74  JOHN    THE    FOOL 

dell's  good  name — for  Mary's  sake — had  been  his 
last  gamble.    And  Clell  did  not  know !    Nor  Mary ; 
but  I  had  guessed  aright.    I  saw  it  in  his  worn  eyes 
when  they  fixed  on  the  other  man's  disdain  of  him. 
He  stood  troubledly  gazing  off  to  that  pitiless  sky 
and  the  floating  earth,  the  sea  beyond  biding  its 
time  to  leap  and  smite  him  again.     Somewhere  in 
the  north  there  was  the  gabble  of  bonds  and  courts, 
of  tricks  and  money-changing,  but  here  the  man 
stood  facing  the  failure.     Love?    What  word  was 
that  for  him?     That  was  something  idlers  chat 
tered  of. 

He  was  looking  at  Clell  again ;  then  quietly,  he  ad 
dressed  the  first  word  to  him  that  either  had  spoken 
directly  since  that  night  when  Mary  had  stood  by 
them,  watching,  listening,  to  the  test.  It  was  spoken 
as  if  the  thing  had  never  been. 

"I  thought,  when  I  brought  you  down — they'd  be 
a  clerk's  job  holdin'  time  on  the  men." 
"I  don't  want  a  clerk's  job." 
"Seh?" 

Clell  motioned  to  the  bottomless  pools  that  lay 
between  us  and  the  forest  fringe  at  John-the-Fool. 
"I  didn't  come  for  that.  I  want  what  men  do — and 
alone." 


THE    BARON  75 

"The  swamp?" 

"Yes." 

"The  sun — you  ain't  used  to  it." 

"I'll  get  used  to  it.  I  want" — he  stopped  and 
looked  into  the  silence — "that's  what  I  came  for — 
the  smash  of  things — and  to  win  free." 

The  Texan  pondered.  "White-handed  jobs  are 
pretty  well  cleaned  out.  Had  a  dynamite  crew 
ahead  in  the  timbeh,  but  it's  gone.  The'  ain't  any 
pay-roll  no  mo'.  They  ain't  any  watchman  no  mo'. 
They  ain't  anything  no  mo'  except  Big  Jim  and  me 
and  the  cook.  Redfield,  the'  ain't  much  fo'  you — • 
I  tell  you  you  are  free  to  go  if  you  want.  Back — • 
this  ain't  you'  world — it's  comin'  rough  and  hard 
fo'  Jim  and  me — " 

"I  want  it  rough  and  hard." 

He  looked  the  city  man  over  patiently.  "All 
right  You  can  go  on  the  crane.  Big  Jim  is  the 
runner.  I  don't  know  about  the  firm' — we'll  break 
Mangy  in  on  the  oil,  I  expaict.  We'll  drive  that  ma 
chine,  by  Mighty — fou'teen  hours  a  day!  And  the 
heat  and  noise." 

"Yes,"  the  other  man  answered  briefly.     "But 
there's  one  thing." 
"Seh?" 


;6  JOHN   THE   FOOL 

"I'll  work  with  you,  and  eat  with  you,  and  fight 
it  out — but  I  will  not  speak  to  you  until  that  debt 
is  paid." 

The  Texan  looked  with  shrewd  care  into  that 
white  calm  face  before  him.  The  two  were  nearly 
equal,  but  the  older  man  was  the  heavier,  stringier, 
tougher;  the  short-grass  country  and  the  sea  lands 
both  seemed  to  have  knit  into  him  something  of  their 
fiber.  I  saw  one  gleam  of  resentment;  then  saw  it 
die.  "All  right,  Redfield.  You  make  good,  remem- 
beh.  That  dredge — it's  what  I'm  bankin'  on  now 
— I'm  fightin'  in  the  last  ditch  now.  I  reckon  you 
could  make  or  break  me,  somehow.  It  ain't  com 
pany's  money — they  told  me  to  quit.  But  I'm  hold- 
in'  to  the  option — and  that  means  the  ditch  clean 
to  salt  water  by  Septembeh.  You  understand?" 

The  younger  man  nodded  curtly.  Big  Jim  was 
watching  with  hard  eyes.  The  boss  went  on  slowly : 

"We'll  show  you  yo'  work.  Beyond  that — noth 
ing  if  you  don't  want  a  word  from  me.  I'm  stand- 
in'  fo'  you  fo'  the  sake  of  Mary.  Yo'  cain't  insult 
me — fo'  the  sake  of  Mary.  You  owe  me  two  thou 
sand  dollehs,  and  yo'll  pay  it  at  one  hundred  and 
fifty  a  month.  Is  that  square?" 

Again  the  other  nodded.  The  Texan  turned  to 
me  and  his  serene  smile  came.  "But,  Doctor  Dick, 


THE    BARON  77 

I  don't  know  what  to  do  with  you.  Neve'  thought 
I'd  come  south  and  find  things  shot  to  pieces  so. 
Thought  we'd  have  a  camp — a  decent  camp  fo'  a 
white  man.  Well,  I  reckon,  somehow,  I  can  shoul- 
deh  you,  too." 

Then  he  turned  forward  on  his  beloved  black 
monster :  "Come  on,  Redfield.  To-day  we  start  her 
— by  Mighty!  We  start — the  three  of  us — and  the 
ditch  goes  through." 

Big  Jim  followed  them  watching.  Mangy,  the 
cook,  stuck  his  black  head  through  the  kitchen  door, 
staring  after  the  boss.  The  silence  was  intolerable. 
I  looked  at  the  white  limbs  of  the  dead  cypress,  their 
funeral  plumes  of  gray  unstirred  in  the  hot  morn 
ing.  The  changeless  sheen  of  the  floating  prairie 
was  like  a  cat's  back,  sleek,  treacherous  as  the  stare 
of  the  sky.  It  was  the  place  to  stage  a  hate  for  the 
souls  of  men. 


CHAPTER  Y 

THE  HONEY   HUNTERS 

THE  dredge  worked  monotonously,  but  with 
many  stoppings  all  that  forenoon.  After  a 
silent  dinner  in  the  quarter-boat,  Virgil  came  to  me 
with  that  old  enigmatic  gesture  of  his  long  forefinger 
as  if  he  were  ever  trying  to  hook  his  troubles  away 
from  before  his  eyes. 

"Doctor  Dick,  I  got  a  scheme." 

I  smoked  on  complacently,  hiding  the  outrage 
within  me.  The  cooking  had  been  abominable,  the 
heat  and  silence  a  menace,  then  the  noise  of  the 
machine  nerve-racking;  and  there  was  no  escape. 

"It's  going  to  be  pretty  low  down  on  you,  Doctor 
Dick.  This  man,  Redfield" — no  longer  was  he  Clell 
to  the  Texan — "he's  got  to  shag  with  the  bunch — 
and  God  help  him  if  he  breaks!" 

"He'll  never  break." 

The  boss  looked  long  at  me.    "You  think  so,  seh  ?" 

"I  know  the  stuff  in  him — and  his  dad  before 
him." 

78 


THE    HONEY    HUNTERS  79 

-\ 
"I  ain't  sayin'.     I'll  give  him  a  square  shift — and 

nothin'  else.  I'm  through.  I  give  up  Mary  f o'  him ; 
and  now,  damn  him,  I'll  make  him  fo'  her!  I'm 
through  thinkin'  of  this — I — "  he  looked  off  at  the 
dim  blue  wall  of  Isle  Bonne  woods:  "well,  I  cain't 
have  this  on  my  mind.  I'm  on  the  job.  So's  Big 
Jim.  So's  Redfield.  So's  the  cook.  Redfteld  is 
no  better  man  to  me  than  Mangy.  I'm  just  leavin' 
it  to  you  that  I  don't  love  him.  I — tried,  but — " 
he  looked  at  me  with  his  droll,  patient  smile.  "Well, 
it's  a  two-man  game  between  him  and  me — he  can 
hate  me  all  he  pleases — but  I  want  this  work  to  go 
on.  If  he  don't  break  under  it,  he's  a  man — and 
I'll  tell  Mary  so!" 

"If  Mary  only  knew  how  the  thing  stood;  but 
God  bless  her,  she  doesn't.  She  doesn't  dream 
it's  half  so — so  horrible!" 

He  smiled  again  gently.  "Remembeh — I  tried 
to  love  him — and  he  wouldn't  let  me!" 

He  was  going  back  to  the  fire  room  where  the 
new  man  stood  waiting,  and  then  turned  to  me. 
"Forgot  my  scheme  fo'  you.  There  isn't  any  place 
for  you  here,  Doctor  Dick;  the  grub  and  the  bunks 
ain't  all  a  gentleman  and  a  philosopher  like  you 
would  hanker  fo'.  I'm  goin'  to  unload  you  on  the 
baron." 


8£  JOHN  .THE   FOOL 

"What?"  I  exclaimed. 

"The  old  son-of-a-gun  asked  you  to  stay  a  year." 

"But  that's  just  his  extravagant  way  of  putting 
it" 

"We'll  call  his  bluff.  Besides—"  his  thumb  went 
over  his  shoulder  to  the  forest:  "maybe  you  can 
find  out  what's  happenin'  to  my  niggers  so  curi 
ously.  And  honey  bees — •"  he  added,  and  a  high 
fond  light  went  to  his  eyes.  "You'd  make  a  plumb 
fine  detective." 

I  regarded  him  unseriously :  "Virgil,  do  you  mean 
I'm  to  ask  that  old  derelict  to  put  me  up  in  his 
camp  ?" 

"Exactly.  Don't  ask  him,  though.  Go  and 
mooch  in  on  him  pleasantly  and  don't  eve'  say  how 
long  you  may  remain.  He  cain't  kick — it's  a  cus 
tom  of  the  country." 

"Well,"  I  said,  and  then  I  thought  of  our  wood 
saint.  "I'll  go  down  and  look  about.  It  can't  do  any 
harm  to  ask  about  honey  bees." 

He  smiled  and  passed  on  to  his  work.  I  left 
them,  paddling  the  cook's  johnboat  back  the  mile 
of  canal  to  the  glade  of  the  flooded  forest  where 
hung  the  baron's  aerial  roost.  Where  the  first 
overhanging  gloom  of  the  cypress  shut  out  the  sun, 
I  became  entangled  in  the  palmetto  scrub  and  had 


THE    HONEY    HUNTERS  81 

to  detour  about  the  trees  so  that  I  came  in  behind 
the  camp.  Here  the  semi-twilight  reigned,  not  a 
ray  of  sun  reached  to  the  black  water  through 
the  tangled  tops.  Down  the  watery  aisle  wandered 
a  breath,  cold,  evil-odored,  malignant,  and  in  it, 
like  streamers  of  sea  plants,  the  moss  plumes  sway 
ed,  but  without  sound,  within  the  deeps. 

The  platform  camp  was  untenanted.  I  could  see 
quite  through  under  the  palm  thatch,  for  the  baron 
ial  hall  had  no  doors  whatever.  The  baronial  mos 
quito  bar  streamed  fitfully  in  the  breeze,  from  the 
four-poster  bed. 

"That  old  monk  of  a  baron  is  not  in  it,  though," 
I  mused.  "Yet  where  could  he  go?  He  couldn't 
paddle  a  swamp  pirogue — it  would  be  absurd. 
There's  not  room  for  him  between  the  trees  here 
about!" 

The  huge  mud  chimney  of  the  shack  was  direct 
ly  in  front  of  me.  I  was  noticing  its  clever  con 
struction,  the  clay,  shells  and  palm  withes  bound 
about  with  bamboo  brier;  when,  on  its  near  side 
I  saw  a  scrap  of  paper.  It  was  stuck  over  a  thorn 
of  the  brier  vine  and  I  could  almost  make  out  the 
writing.  Then  I  did — with  my  glasses. 

It  read  merely :  "We  got  another  one  this  morn 
ing." 


82  JOHN    THE    FOOL 

A  firm  upright  hand,  with  nothing  of  the  sloven 
about  it.  I  was  surprised.  Then  it  occured  to  me 
to  make  a  closer  study.  I  reached  my  hand  up 
over  the  first  rough  support  of  the  chimney  base 
for  that  paper,  and  as  I  did  so  there  came  the 
crash  of  a  shot  so  startlingly  near  that  I  all  but 
tipped  clumsily  from  the  boat.  And  down  past  my 
arm  writhed  the  ugliest  black  moccasin  I  had  yet 
seen — down  beside  the  gunwale  into  the  water, 
where  he  twisted  to  his  death.  I  was  staring  and 
sniffing  the  powder  of  that  shot,  when  a  voice  spoke 
pleasantly  from  the  latanier  jungle  behind. 

"I  was  just  passing  this  way."  The  murmur  was 
languorous.  Then  I  turned  to  see  our  saint  of  Isle 
Bonne.  She  stole  across  the  black  water  in  her 
light  green  pirogue — twelve  feet  long  it  was,  and 
so  delicately  hewn  that  it  oscillated  like  a  compass 
needle  as  she  sat  it.  Across  the  forethwart  lay  a 
very  modern  automatic  rifle. 

"Congo  snakes  are  very  bad  for  Yankee  fel-los," 
she  drawled  on  amiably. 

"Mademoiselle,  you  saved  my  life!" 

Her  laughter  followed — but  her  eyes  were  on  that 
chimney  note. 

Then  their  covert  glance  went  to  me.  Yankee 
fel-los  were  as  amusing  as  ever,  even  if  they  were 


THE    HONEY    HUNTERS  83 

caught  reading  other  people's  correspondence.  I 
somehow  grew  resentful.  Did  she  shoot  at  that 
snake,  or  my  guilty  fingers?  She  had  potted  that 
reptile  squarely  through  its  ugly  head!  Now,  as 
easily,  she  drifted  to  my  clumsy  craft,  her  chin  set 
on  one  brown  hand,  watching  my  discomfiture. 

"Is  it" — I  inquired  with  dignity  at  length — "a 
good  day  for  honey  bees  ?" 

"Some,  truly,  messieur.  Big  bees  for  honey,  but 
little  bees  for  stinging." 

"Young  woman,"  I  retorted,  "what  were  you  do 
ing  behind  me?" 

"Oh,  I  was  watching  you,  m'sieu.  All  a-time,  you 
come  down  the  canal  and  turn  off  in  our  glade  I  say : 
'What  a-matter  with  that  Yankee  fel-lo?'  " 

I  was  exasperated;  she  had  seen  me  squirming 
about  to  read  that  missive.  And  she  had  written 
it,  without  a  doubt;  and  had  left  it  there,  only  to  re 
turn  when  she  discovered  me. 

"That  infernal  snake,"  I  murmured:  "It  quite 
upset  me.  Where's  the  baron  ?  Do  you  suppose  he 
has  any  brandy?" 

"Oh,  oui!"  With  one  long  swift  whirl  of  the 
paddle  she  shot  her  light  craft  to  the  platform; 
was  up  on  it  and  in  the  shack,  ere  I  had  managed 
to  teeter  to  the  piling  and  climb  out.  She  was  ex- 


84  JOHN   THE    FOOL 

tending  a  flask  to  me — an  exquisite  but  tarnished 
thing  of  silver.  I  noted  a  coat-of-arms  and  a  date: 
1780.  She  was  noticing  interestedly  my  look  upon 
that  relic. 

"Thank  you,"  I  said  dryly,  and  reached  over  the 
platform  to  fetch  up  my  suit-case.  She  looked  at 
me  still  more  interestedly. 

"You  going  back  out  front,  m'sieu  ?" 

"No.  I — "  and  I  placidly  opened  the  case  and 
took  out  my  last  cigar.  "I  have  come  to  accept  the 
baron's  invitation." 

"Invitation,  m'sieu  ?" 

"You  heard  him,  this  morning,  most  enthusiasti 
cally  insist  that  I  stay  a  year!" 

"But,  m'sieu!" 

"I  have  come  to  put  up  with  my  good  friend,  the 
baron." 

"But  m'sieu!  Mon  Dieu,  Seigneur!     M'sieu!" 

"Ah,  it  is  good  of  him."  I  chuckled  and  repressed 
it.  The  saint  was  wide-eyed,  furious,  incredu 
lous.  I  had  her  going!  She  stepped  closer,  her 
clean-cut,  ingenuous  face  changing  to  utter  dis 
may.  I  went  on  felicitously:  "Ah,  me.  There  was 
no  room  on  the  dredge.  It's  beastly  at  best.  No 
clean  water — no  soap  that  I  could  see.  And  dirt 


THE    HONEY    HUNTERS  85 

and  cinders  and  noise.  I  thought  then  of  my  good 
friend,  the  Baron,  and  his  kind  invitation.  I  said: 
"  'Ah,  how  kind,  indeed — how  princely !'  Truly,  a 
nobleman,  mademoiselle,  offering,  as  if  it  were  his 
ancestral  castle,  this  humble  abode."  I  made  a  ges 
ture  and  cracked  my  knuckles  on  the  rooftree  of 
the  abode.  "Ah,  mademoiselle,  I  thank  you,  also 
for  your  efforts.  You  are  magnificent — doubtless, 
you  will  stay  and  cook  for  us." 

"Le  nom  de  diable!  Cook?"  She  turned  and  ran 
frightenedly  to  the  side  of  the  shack  and  stared  off 
in  the  flooded  forest.  Then  she  ran  back  and  clap 
ped  her  hands.  Actually  she  was  pale!  I  seized 
those  small  hands  of  hers,  brown,  firm,  exquisitely 
molded  and  strong  as  steel.  She  tried  to  wring 
them  in  my  grasp;  she  had  apparently  forgotten 
every  word  of  English.  Then  she  gasped  again : 

"Ah,  no— no— no!" 

"Most  excellent !"  I  roared.  "Ah,  that  splendid 
gentleman,  my  friend,  Baron  de  Vedrinnes.  How 
fortunate  that  I  can  accept." 

"Non — non!  Diable!"  Then  she  broke  away  and 
paced  the  platform. 

"M'sieu — the  Congo  snakes !" 

"Ah,  here  is  mademoiselle  to  shoot  them!" 


86  JOHN    THE    FOOL 

"The  fever." 

"I  am  proprietor  of  a  famous  remedy  myself — • 
and  shall  a  physician  fear  his  own  dose?" 

She  looked  at  me  as  she  might  a  lunatic.  "The 
old  pirate  folkses!" 

"Who?" 

"Pirates,  messieur!" 

"They  are  most  excellently  dead,  mademoiselle. 
I  saw  the  graves  of  Dominick  You  and  Beluche 
in  your  old  New  Orleans  cemetery.  And  as  for 
Laf  itte,  himself — the  devil  alone  knows  what  became 
of  him,  but  he  has  been  gone  close  to  a  century." 

Then  she  suddenly  stopped  and  made  a  moue.  I 
went  on  placidly  again.  "I  am  not  a  swamp  negro, 
mademoiselle,  to  be  scared  out  of  Barataria  woods 
by  any  ghost  tales  of  Lafitte's  men.  What,  by 
the  way,  have  you  done  with  Hog  jaw — the  one  you 
got  this  morning?" 

She  was  absolutely  dumfounded.  "You've 
scared,  or  coaxed  or  waylaid  every  nigger  Mr.  Will 
iams  has  ever  been  able  to  bring  down  in  this  in 
fernal  place  of  pirate  yarns  and  buried  treasure 
fakes." 

She  looked  demurely  at  me.  "You  are  a  wise 
man,  Doctor  Rainey." 

"Wait,"    I  boasted,  "until  you  know  me.    Mean- 


THE    HONEY    HUNTERS  87 

time,  I  am  here.  I  haven't  a  roof  over  me,  nor  an 
ounce  of  provisions;  and  Messietir  le  Baron  has 
courteously  offered  me  his  home.  See  here,"  I 
turned  on  her  like  an  inquisitor  of  police:  "if 
you  offer  to  obstruct  this  plan,  I'll  go  tell  Mr.  Will 
iams  all  I  do  know." 

She  gave  me  a  quick  appreciation.  I  had  her  there. 
What  did  I  know?  She  was  cudgeling  her  brains 
to  fathom  it;  and  I  cunningly  ceased  to  argue  and 
fell  to  unpacking  my  stuff. 

The  baron's  shack  had  two  bedrooms  and  a  com 
bined  hall  and  kitchen,  and  in  the  best  of  the  crazy 
chambers  I  went,  tumbling  all  sorts  of  litter  out  on 
the  floor,  arranging  my  toilet  articles  on  the -pine 
table  and  hung  up  my  good  suit.  Then  I  sat  down, 
pulled  out  a  magazine  and  proceeded  to  read. 

Out  on  the  platform  the  wood  saint  sat  and 
watched  me  with  long  sighs  and  furtive  glances. 
She  was  throughly  jarred,  that  I  knew.  I  totally 
disregarded  her. 

Finally  she  spoke  and  with  a  plaintiveness  that 
actually  seemed  humble. 

"Messieur,  did  you  know  that  my  great-grand- 
uncle  was  Armand  Drouillot?" 

"Yes." 

"And  Isle  Bonne  was  his?" 


88  JOHN   THE    FOOL 

"Yes.  And  a  most  awful  ancestor  you  had,  made 
moiselle.  He  was  a  gambler,  a  smuggler,  a  slave- 
runner,  and  he  lost  his  life  most  rightfully  at  the 
yard-arm  of  an  English  sloop-of-war  in  1854." 

"Ah,  you  know  so  much!"  she  sighed. 

"Quite  so.  And  his  father  was  Placide  Drouil- 
lot  of  whom  it  is  said  that  even  Jean  Lafitte  con 
gratulated  himself  when  he  was  killed  at  the  battle 
of  Chalmette.  You  are  a  most  awful  lot,  madem 
oiselle." 

She  sighed  again.  "Papa  Prosper,  he  no  so  much. 
He  stay  at  home  on  his  gallerie  and  reads  his 
N'Awlyins  paper  if  he  eve'  get  one." 

"I  know.  And  scolds  his  tree-frog.  He  is  a 
gentleman." 

"Me,  I  don't  like  gentleman  like  that,  m'sieu. 
I  like  them  like  Messieur  le  Baron.  Ah,  he  jump 
up — so!  Swing  his  sword  so — or  his  pipe!  Ah, 
for  a  lady  he  do  anything!" 

"He  can't  do  much.     He's  too  fat." 

She  looked  at  me  injuredly.    "He  no  so  fat." 

"Fat  and  eighty-eight.  He  ought  to  know  better 
than  stick  a  rooster  feather  in  his  hat,  and  addle 
your  head  with  romance.  I'll  wager  now,  he's 
got  you  hunting  buried  treasure.  Money- — not  hon 
ey,  you  understand?" 


THE    HONEY    HUNTERS  89 

She  made  another  face  at  me — and  then  broke  to 
laughter.  "Oh,  you  so  a  wise  man,  m'sieu !  I  like 
you.  I  let  you  go  hunt  treasure." 

"Thank  you.  By  next  autumn  Isle  Bonne  and  its 
treasure  and  its  ghosts,  snakes,  pirates,  red  bugs 
and  bull  bats  will  belong  to  the  Prairie  Meadows 
Development  Company,  and  in  five  years  more  Yan 
kee  farmers  will  be  raising  corn  and  sorghum  inside 
Mr.  Williams'  protection  levee,  and  where  will  you 
be?" 

She  thought  about  it.  "I  don't  know,  m'sieu. 
Maybe  Antoine  come  back  and  be  a  barbeh  some 
time." 

"Marry  him.  A  good  honest  barber  who  doesn't 
scrape  one's  face,  and  will  bring  home  his  wages 
every  Saturday  night.  You  marry  Antoine,  and 
help  him  be  an  excellent  barber." 

"Messieur  le  Baron,  he  says  barbehs  no  so  much. 
He  says  dukes  are  much  better  for  marrying,  m'sieu. 
Only  I  never  saw  any." 

"And  you  should  not.  One  nobleman  is  enough 
for  Isle  Bonne.  And  why  does  he  wear  the  rooster 
feather?" 

"Because  we  couldn't  find  any  peacocks." 

"Oh,  lord!"  I  groaned.  "Is  that  he  coming 
now — being  towed  along  by  Allesjandro?" 


90  JOHN    THE    FOOL 

She  jumped  up  with  delight.  Out  of  the  jungle 
across  the  glade  came  a  procession.  Allesjandro 
paddling  his  pirogue  and  towing  behind  in  a  square- 
end  swamp  batteau  the  vast  and  rotund  form  of  his 
Highness.  With  many  jabberings  on  the  pilot's 
part,  and  grunts  on  the  baron's  when  they  bumped 
the  cypress  spikes,  the  flotilla  reached  the  platform 
ladder.  They  had  a  deal  of  trouble  getting  the 
baron  up.  Up  above  Laure  pulled;  down  below 
Allesjandro  heaved,  and  in  chorus  with  them  both 
the  Baron  de  Vedrinnes  recited  prayers  of  his  revil 
ed  Capuchin. 

"Ho,  my  buttons!"  he  gasped.  "Name  of  God,  I 
am  twisted!  Ah!  Ah,  my  foot,  Allesjandro — - 
you  are  breaking  it.  Ah,  together,  now — up — ho!" 

He  sat  on  the  platform  comically  apoplectic,  and 
waved  his  hand  at  Laure,  not  seeing  me  at  all. 

"Ah,  princess,  there  is  no  more  romance  left 
to  the  world!  I  have  tried  fifty  years  to  conserve 
the  last  of  it — but  I  am  getting  fat!" 

"Getting  fat?"  she  inquired,  innocently.  "Mes- 
sieur  le  Baron,  you  have  been  at  Isle  Bonne  four 
years  now,  and  always  it  has  required  two  of  us  to 
get  you  on  the  platform.  But  what  has  that  to  do 
with  it?" 

"Nothing — nothing  at  all,  my  dear."     He  rolled 


Laure  pulled,  Allesjandro  heaved 


THE    HONEY    HUNTERS  91 

to  his  feet  and  wiped  his  face.  Allesjandro,  with 
a  jabber  of  his  swamp  patois,  was  paddling  off 
again.  The  master  waved  to  him.  "See  that  the 
men  eat,  Allesjandro — we  had  trouble  enough  to 
get  them.  And  if  they  steal  a  pig,  anywhere — 
z'oila!  You  are  not  to  notice  such  an  unfortunate 
occurrence.  A  chop,  in  fact,  here  at  our  castle 
— ah,  well,  mademoiselle,  did  you  happen  to  bring 
anything  from  that  old  dodderer,  your  grand 
father?" 

The  saint's  face  grew  stony.  "A  little  duck, 
m'sieu — baked  as  you  like  it — seventeen  minutes." 

"A  little  duck — rarely  baked,  but  wholly  illegal 
in  April.  Well,  well — with  these  Yankees  around 
you'd  best  have  a  care."  I 

"M'sieu!  The  doctor!"  She  whirled  him  about 
to  me,  scarlet-faced. 

The  baron  gazed;  the  wrinkled  purses  under  his 
eyes  tightened — and  then  his  grand  bow,  with  the 
wide  sweep  of  the  long  pipe,  followed. 

"My  friend,  the  doctor!  Ah,  to  dinner,  indeed, 
on  mademoiselle's  exquisite  illegal  duck.  It 
is  magnificant  that  you  came.  After  all  what  is  a 
duck  between  friends?" 

"An  excellent  dinner,  messieur."  I  out-bowed 
him  grandly.  "I  am  pleased  to  accept." 


92  JOHN    THE    FOOL 

"To  dinner — ah,  no — to  stay  the  week,  a  month, 
— a  year.  Our  home  is  yours — everything — "  he 
swept  an  arm  to  it — the  thatch,  the  mud  chimney, 
the  strings  of  garlic  and  mink  skins  and  dried  bait 
hanging  to  the  roof  tree ;  "I  am  honored !" 

Laure  was  shaking  his  arm:  "Non — non!"  she 
was  dragging  him  to  his  threshold.  "Sec — see!" 
she  gasped.  "The  doctor!" 

His  eye  fell  upon  my  luggage  spread  about  the 
bed,  the  open  case  and  my  toilet  articles  upon  his 
little  table  before  the  mirror.  His  interest  was  pro 
found. 

"I  am  happy  to  accept,"  I  hastened  on.  "Madem 
oiselle  welcomed  me  to  the  best  room — it  is  too 
good  of  you.  My  heart" — I  placed  a  hand  upon  it 
— "is  full.  Time  alone  will  show  my  gratitude." 

The  look  the  wood  saint  gave  me  should  have 
withered  one.  The  baron  was  bowing  gravely.  "Ah, 
my  good  friend,  the  doctor!" 

"Ah,  Baron!"  I  all  but  wept.  Laure's  eyes  had 
an  angry  glitter.  The  baron  cocked  one  of  his 
wide;  the  other  was  full  of  smoke.  "There  was 
no  room  for  me  at  the  dredge.  They  were  crowded 
— and  then  I  happened  to  think  of  your  invitation 
of  this  morning." 

"What  happy  chance!    A  man  of  the  world — of 


THE    HONEY    HUNTERS  93 

thought,  of  feeling,  of  culture — and  who,  I  trust, 
is  not  afraid  of  snakes  and  red  bugs." 

"Not  in  the  least."  I  seated  myself  calmly  in  my 
chair.  "Ah,  I  wonder  now,  would  mademoiselle 
mind  serving  her  excellent  and  illegal  duck?  I 
feel  hungry." 

They  both  stared,  and  a  trifle  bewilderedly.  Re 
bellion  was  in  her  eyes.  The  baron  waved  his  pipe. 
"My  man,  Allesjandro — well,  well,  mademoiselle 
would  not  mind  laying  the  cloth.  And  a  jug  of  wine 
— I  procure  excellent  wine  of  Hungary  ordered  by 
way  of  the  Grand  Isle  mail-boat,  messieur." 

He  seated  himself  thoughtfully.  Laure  went  in 
the  main  hall  and  was  busied.  The  way  she  flirted 
the  baron's  gay  red  tablecloth  over  the  board  and 
rattled  the  dishes  in  his  screened  cupboard  was  a 
revelation.  She  was  mad.  The  baron  was  jarred. 
I  had  put  a  bad  crimp  in  some  scheme  or  other. 
The  baron  was  still  in  his  study.  Get  rid  of  me 
he  evidently  must.  He  rubbed  his  hand  slowly 
across  the  greasy  silk  sash  about  his  paunch  and 
sighed.  The  poignant  stillness  of  the  deep  swamp 
reigned.  The  open  glade  of  the  flooded  forest  held 
spectral  depths  from  the  black  shadows.  Already 
the  immense  gloom  of  night  was  on  us  here.  The 
only  sunlight  lay  on  the  masses  of  the  moss  plumes 


94  JOHN    THE    FOOL 

opposite  us  across  the  water,  and  in  the  tawn  of 
that  still  air  it  was  spun  to  gold  flickings.  Some 
where  above  me  a  water-drop  fell  from  the  giant  cy 
press  and  struck  the  pools  at  its  feet  with  a  tinkle  of 
elfin  music.  That  was  all  in  that  fantastic  place 
of  silence  and  of  colorful  shades — it  was  as  unreal 
as  a  stage-set;  and  life  was  muted  that  the  mum 
mers  might  speak. 

The  baron  heaved  about  in  his  vast  chair.  He 
was  knighthood  gone  to  seed.  Anywhere  else  he 
would  have  been  ridiculous;  here,  he  seemed  quite 
the  proper  lord.  He  seemed  to  feel  the  need  of 
explanation  to  a  modern  worldling. 

And  then  he  sighed:  "Eh,  messieur,  one  must 
live." 

"What  with  oysters,  crabs  and  shrimp  and  fish  for 
the  taking  anywhere  in  your  bay,  a  deer  to  pot  in  the 
cheniere,  now  and  then — and  perchance  a  neighbor's 
pig — I  should  think  one  would  live  well." 
j  "I  did  not  mean  that,"  he  added:  "That  is 
nothing."  He  slapped  his  girth.  "I  am  through 
with  that — my  stomach  has  brought  me  through  fa 
mously.  But  ah,  messieur,  that  is  not  to  live! 
The  fine  flower — "  he  snapped  his  fingers  to  the 
air.  "Exquisite  feeling,  and  the  play  of  grace;  a 
song  and  the  chance  of  adventure.  A  service  and 


THE    HONEY    HUNTERS  95 

a  love — one  must  have  that  to  live.  Look  at  me 
— it  has  kept  me  alive  fifteen  years  beyond  my  time. 
The  eternal  pursuit  and  the  delight  of  just  tipping 
with  your  fingers  the  ineffable  mysteries — affairs, 
women,  the  chance  of  a  sword  thrust.  Messieur,  at 
twenty- four  I  was  the  best  swordsman  in  the  Mor 
avian  Cuirassiers.  At  thirty  the  best  pistol-shot  in 
the  Crimean  regiments  of  the  Czar;  at  forty  the 
best  gun  captain  in  your  Confederate  privateering 
service.  I  have  been  shot,  hanged,  drowned,  burn 
ed,  buried,  by  the  official  records  of  half  a  dozen 
governments,  but  now  look  at  me — eighty-eight, — " 
he  cocked  his  head  so  that  the  rooster  feather  in  his 
green  hat  hung  over  one  eye —  "Sans  peur  et  sans 
re  pro  die." 

"Sans  a  bath,  I  fancy,"  I  murmured,  but  he  but 
saw  my  lips  move.  Then  I  shifted  squarely  about 
on  him:  "Come — come — what  are  you  up  to?" 

He  shrugged.  "I  tumbled  about  the  mewling  af 
fairs  of  five  or  six  of  your  Latin  American  repub 
lics  for  thirty  years.  There  was  not  much  in  it 
save  a  woman  now  and  then,  who  appreciated  me 
—who  could  interpret  a  bow  after  the  manner,  who 
caught  the  merest  phrase  I  could  offer — to  whom 
one  could  give  service,  in  fact.  Now  and  then  one 
who  saw  me  with  her  mind's  eye  in  a  background 


96  JOHN    THE    FOOL 

of  old  rose  and  mahogany  and  not  a  dirty  plunderer 
from  the  seven  seas.  But  that  is  passed — at  times 
since  then  I've  had  to  wash  my  own  shirt — my  shirt, 
messieur — not  the  shirts.  But  here  I  have  come 
back  to  the  south  coast  where — "  He  broke  off  and 
looked  strangely  out  of  his  forest  glade  to  the  far 
gulf  reefs:  "It  is  at  least  sixty  years  since  here 
about  I  just  escaped  being  hanged." 

"Still,"  I  pursued,  "why  here  again?  What  has 
Barataria  to  offer — your  slavers  and  privateers 
have  been  gone  three-quarters  of  a  century." 

"Ah,  what  should  it  be !  Here,  at  the  end  of  the 
rainbow  I  stumbled  upon  it." 

"The  pot  of  gold?" 

"Banal !  No — never !  What  would  that  be  to  me 
— at  eighty-eight?  No,  I  told  you  the  exquisite 
thing  for  a  gentleman — a  service  and  a  love." 

"What?  What?"  I  stared  at  him.  The  wood 
saint  within  was  tinkling  the  glasses. 

"No — no !  For  shame,  Doctor !  But  I  came  upon 
them — my  man,  Allesjandro,  first  apprised  me  that 
one  of  the  old  Drouillot  line  held  to  Isle  Bonne. 
And  then  I  came — we  camped  a  week  with  that  in 
sufferable  old  bourgeois,  Prosper.  Ah,  there  is  a 
come-down,  let  me  tell  you,  from  Armand  Drouillot 
of  our  old  free  companions;  from  Placide,  the  pir- 


THE    HONEY   HUNTERS  97 

ate,  who  fought  with  Jackson  at  Chalmette,  from 
Gaspard  Bouligny  de  Drouillot  who  was  granted 
lands  hereabout  extending  from  the  river  to  the  sea 
for  the  aid  he  gave  Bernardo  de  Galvez,  the  fourth 
Spanish  viceroy  of  Louisiana,  in  capturing  Mobile 
from  the  English — ah,  from  that  chevalier  they 
have  degenerated  to  Prosper,  the  crab-fisher!  And 
here  I  discover  the  last  of  the  Louisiana  line,  my 
lady,  cooped  up  with  this  doddering  grandpere  who 
sits  stirring  his  coffee  like  a  damned  cajun  while 
the  Yankees  plunder  her  island !  Infamous !  I  said 
— intolerable !  To  me — I,  who,  with  my  own  eyes, 
have  seen  the  signature  of  Charles  the  Third  of 
Spain  to  the  warrants  that  gave  the  lands  to  the  first 
chevalier!  At  once  I  saw  what  I  must  do — old  life 
and  loves  and  fighting  poured  back  through  my 
veins.  We  built  our  camp  here  on  what  was  left 
of  Cheniere  John-the-Fool,  and  when  I  found,  as 
the  final  ignominy  of  Prosper,  that  he  was  trying 
to  marry  his  grandchild  to  a  barber,  I  straightway 
challenged  him.  But  he  had  nothing  save  his  infer 
nal  crab-hook  to  fight  me  with,  and  besides  he  look 
ed  in  a  book  from  your  Washington  government, 
and  decided  the  law  would  not  allow  him  to  fight. 
Law — bah !  All  I  could  do  was  to  sit  here  and  try 
to  charm  my  marquise  away  from  him  and  his  in- 


98  JOHN   THE    FOOL 

fluence.  I  must  build  her  anew,  teach  her  the  French 
of  courts,  and  not  this  abominable  patois  of  the 
south  coast.  She  can  speak  French  or  English  well 
enough  save  when  she  is  excited,  as  you  may  have 
observed,  and  then  she  will  make  you  tear  your  hair. 
Her  mind  and  her  manners — ah,  I  have  done  mar 
vels  with  her  in  the  four  years  I  have  cajoled  her. 
Barber  be  damned — I  will  slit  his  throat,  I  will 
burn  old  Prosper  out  and  sack  his  house  before 
she  shall  wed  a  barber.  A  fortune,  that  is  what  we 
need.  I  would  show  her  courts  and  promenades — 
she  should  hear  the  phrases  of  gallants,  and  laugh 
at  the  loveliness  of  silks  and  laces.  She  is  beauti 
ful!  Ah,  if  I  had  my  youth  again." 

From  the  palmetto  thatch  he  drew  some  soiled 
old  wrappings  and  from  these  he  unrolled  a  scabbard 
and  then  a  sword  of  wondrous  art.  It  was  rarely 
old,  and  sprung  like  a  line  of  light  in  his  fingers. 
He  came  to  sit  again  and  caressed  the  frayed  tas 
sels  thoughtfully.  "I've  swum  five  times  from  sink 
ing  ships  with  this,  have  buried  it  six  to  keep  it 
from  captors.  When  I  come  to  die,  messieur,  I  hope 
to  have  strength  to  throw  it  from  me  into  clean 
green  water  of  the  open  sea." 

"Messieur  le  Baron,"  I  put  in,  "I  took  you  this 
morning  for  an  abominable  fraud!  I  apologize." 


THE    HONEY    HUNTERS  99 

He  waved  his  pipe:  "I  appreciated  you  at  once, 
Doctor!" 

"But,  ah  me!  You're  fighting  a  big  land  com 
pany  as  well  as  a  barber  to  retrieve  the  fortunes  of 
your  lady.  That  honorable  blade  of  yours,  you  can 
not  well  stick  it  into  an  entire  board  of  directors 
in  New  York." 

He  flourished  it  grandly.  "No  matter!  It  is  to 
live  nobly,  whatever  the  end  of  fortune.  The  great 
est  fighters  are  the  greatest  losers.  And  as  for 
the  barber" — he  wiped  his  sword  across  his  rusty 
trousers — "I  would  not  pollute  this  with  his  cajun 
hide;  but  I  will  order  my  men  to  stick  him  head 
first  in  the  mud  if  he  ever  comes  back.  And  Laure 
— I  have  all  but  shattered  his  memory  in  her  mind. 
Ah,  Doctor,  there  is  a  noble  cause  here  for  you  to 
aid!" 

Now,  I  had  lost  some  of  my  assurance.  You 
could  not  help  liking  the  old  pig-sticker.  Two  good 
legs  under  him  and  seven  inches  off  his  belly,  and 
I  could  well  imagine  him  charging  Virgil's  clam 
shell  dredge  like  a  very  Quixote. 

He  was  eying  me  shrewdly;  he  had  quite  for 
gotten  my  position  here  in  his  burst  of  comrade 
ship.  With  all  his  airs,  there  he  was — the  boy,  the 
hero  to  himself,  simple,  eager, — a  flower,  a  phrase, 


ioo  JOHN    THE    FOOL 

a  kindness,  a  sacrifice,  a  cause — jubilantly  he  arose 
to  them. 

"I  had  indeed  forgotten,"  he  went  on,  "y°u  are 
a  part  of  this  diabolic  scheme  to  dispossess  Pros 
per  and  his  grandchild — to  dig  a  ditch  through  the 
heart  of  our  wondrous  forest.  Still,  you  are  a  man 
unlike  that  fellow  of  the  dredge — he  is  a  hard  nut 
to  crack." 

"He  offered  her  a  compromise  four  years  ago." 
"Bah ! — forty  thousand  dollars  for  a  principality. 
I  protest — no,  no — never !  I  broke  that  up  at  once. 
The  Bordeaux  heirs  got  the  titles  because  of  some 
unrecorded  transfer  sixty  years  ago — the  real  war 
rants  from  Don  Galvez  were  missing.  That  alone 
is  what  beats  us" — he  roared,  and  waved  his  to- 
ledo  blade  southward  at  the  film  of  smoke  rising 
from  the  Texan's  dredge.  "And  that  fellow — why, 
my  Avild-woods  marquise  does  not  so  much  as  notice 
the  mud  grubber !" 

"A  pity !"  I  murmured.  "It  would  profit  her  well." 
The  roaring  knight  smote  his  breast.  "Bah — I! 
Me !  I  will  stick  him  into  one  of  his  own  mud-holes ! 
I  treat  him  civilly  now,  but  when  the  time  comes — " 
he  broke  off  and  winked  at  me  with  vast  cunning: 
"I  am  not  at  my  last  trick,  by  any  means,  good 
Doctor." 


THE    HONEY   HUNTERS  101 

I  smiled  guilelessly.  He  went  fuming  on  with 
a  flourish  of  his  sword  now  and  then,  and  a  pull 
at  his  pipe.  "Name  of  God!  They  are  a  rabble 
here — shrimp-haulers,  crab-fishers — catchers  of 
muskrats  along  with  the  riffraff  from  New  Orleans 
levees.  And  the  Yankee  newcomers  are  no  better 
— money-chasers  and  dirt  grubbers,  without  man? 
ners  or  understanding.  Ah,  if  I  could  find  one 
proper  lover  for  my  marquise !  She  must  be  polish 
ed  by  contact  with  the  bright  world.  Everything 
in  her  is  sweetly  rough,  a  fine  wild  grace  of  nature, 
but  we  must  build  more  in  her.  I — me !  I  am  the 
juggler  of  fortune  for  her."  He  rubbed  his  pink 
poll  under  the  rooster  feathers.  "I  am  the  mastei 
craftsman — but  she  needs  a  lover — a  dozen  lovers 
— to  open  the  hidden  flower."  Then  he  smote  his 
knee :  "Ah,  I  have  it.  Doctor,  you  are  well  preser 
ved,  and  have  a  speech  of  the  world —  you  must 
play  the  lover  for  her.  Name  of  God! — you  are 
right  to  my  hand!" 

"The  devil!"  I  roared.  "I  will  not!" 

"It" — he  went  on,  amiably,  as  if  it  were  settled 
— "will  be  part  of  her  education.  Nothing  will  so 
complete  her  as  the  love  of  a  man  of  culture  and 
discrimination.  After  you — others,  of  course.  But, 
Doctor,  you  are  the  best  I  have  now,  at  hand." 


102  JOHN    THE    FOOL 

"I  shall  not  serve  as  a  stalking  horse  for  any 
man's  passion." 

"You  decline  to  love  her?" 

"Yes— never!" 

"Then,"  he  went  on  evenly,  "you  must  expect  a 
challenge  from  me." 

"Get  out!  You  are  absurd.  And  you  are  twice 
my  age." 

"Exactly.  That  gives  you  a  valid  excuse  for  re 
fusing  to  fight  me.  That  and  the  fact  you  have  no 
weapons  or  knowledge  of  them.  But  it  leaves  my 
honor  untarnished.  I  can  write  of  it  to  the  Austrian 
consul,  my  good  friend.  He  will  see  that  it  gets, 
by  way  of  gossip,  to  what  is  left  of  my  family  in 
Europe.  The  Prince  of  Thurn  will  say:  'What, 
that  old  firebrand,  Bernal?  Still  alive  and  duel- 
ing?'" 

"Baron,  I  have  seen  a  great  many  vain  men  in  my 
time — " 

"But  none  like  me.  Ah,  that  is  what  keeps  the 
old  blood  singing  through  my  heart — call  it  what 
you  will !  That,  and  the  face  of  the  beautiful  world. 
And  the  memory  of  another  face  or  two!  Come, 
now — Doctor — here  is  our  great  and  last  adventure. 
You  will  assist  me — petal  by  petal  we  shall  un 
fold  our  flower,  we  shall  watch  her  face  turning 


THE    HONEY    HUNTERS  103 

from  the  opal  mists  of  childhood  to  the  clear  morn 
ing  of  a  woman  and  her  love !" 

I  sat  back  and  watched  the  old  dog  in  his  clear 
sunset.  Then  I  gasped  in  some  bewilderment: 
"Well,  how  do  we  begin?" 

He  was  arising  and  waddling  in  to  his  dining 
hall.  "I  leave  the  inner  part  to  your  own  delicacy. 
But  there  are  some  absolute  essentials  first.  She 
must  have  poise  and  manner — I  have  been  diligently 
correcting  much,  but  in  her  own  home  that  vulgar 
Prosper  corrupts  as  fast  as  I  build  up.  But  you 
now — convey  in  some  fit  fashion  not  only  that  you 
are  enamored,  but  also  that  you  disapprove  of  the 
way  she  holds  her  fork,  or  perhaps  pours  the  tea. 
A  lover  can  touch  her  pride  where  I — at  times  I  fear 
she  looks  on  me  as  a  meddling  old  tutor." 

We  went  into  the  larger  room.  The  wood  saint 
had  the  small  table  marvelously  appointed,  consider 
ing  all.  The  few  pieces  of  silver  shone,  there 
was  a  globe  of  her  all  eternal  and  omnipresent  wild 
hyacinths  in  the  center  of  the  cloth,  and  their  purple 
gaud  hung  aglitter  with  water-drops.  The  baron 
bowed  me  to  a  chair  before  his  rice  and  crabs,  let 
tuce  and  begung  which  was  raw  sea  trout  eggs, 
spice  and  vinegar,  a  dish  that  Allesjandro  concoct 
ed  as  it  was  done  in  his  own  distant  Mindanao. 


104  JOHN    THE    FOOL 

"It  is  excellent,"  cried  the  baron.  "Ah,  madem 
oiselle,  you  have  the  touch  that  would  give  genius 
to  a  crust  of  bread!  The  air  and  the  features  of 
the  nobility — " 

The  saint  had  suddenly  uplifted  her  fork  and  de 
liberately  jabbed  it  down  through  the  breast  of  that 
wholly  illegal  duck.  Slambang  defiance  there  was 
in  the  thrust. 

"Mademoiselle  Laure,"  I  began.  "As  to  carving, 
would  you  allow  me — " 

She  lifted  that  small  duck  smartly  on  her  fork 
and  brought  it  down  across  the  top  of  my  head. 
The  gravy  flew  in  my  ears,  the  dressing  down  my 
neck.  She  jumped  up  and  clapped  her  hands. 

"That  for  you!  I  heard  every  word  of  it!  I  will 
never  love  a  bald-headed  doctor!" 

Then  she  ran  out.  I  sputtered  a  way  out  of  the 
hot  gravy.  The  baron  looked  on  placidly.  He 
reached  to  replace  the  duck  from  my  lap. 

"Damnable !"  I  roared. 

"There  was  a  grace  to  it,"  he  answered.  "It  re 
minded  me  of  the  way  her  rascal  of  a  great-grand- 
uncle  insulted  an  English  captain  in  the  barbor  of 
Toulon  in  1841.  Allow  me  to  serve  the  relish, 
will  you  not?  We  picked  for  you  one  of  the  three 
radishes  in  our  garden." 


CHAPTER  VI 

THE    WAY    TO    BEGIN 

1  PASSED  an  uncomfortable  night.  The  bed  was 
lumpy,  and  the  eerie  swish  of  the  Spanish  moss 
across  the  palm  roof,  the  scamper  of  chameleons  and 
numberless  insects  through  the  dry  thatch,  together 
with  the  diabolic  cry  of  the  swamp  owls  did  not  in 
vite  sleep.  We  had  talked  late,  the  baron  relating 
a  variety  of  astonishing  tales.  But  of  the  lady  of 
the  duck — nothing  more.  He  apparently  considered 
us  introduced.  She  had  gone  home  without  seeing 
us  again.  Allesjandro  appeared  in  the  morning 
and  served  coffee.  I  was  smoking  out  on  the  plat 
form  when  a  johnboat  turned  out  of  the  canal  an,d 
came  across  our  watery  front  yard.  Clell  was  in 
it,  and  called  to  me  a  good  morning  that  did  my 
heart  good. 

"Doctor  Dick,  it  was  a  short  week — this  first." 
"Of  course.    This  must  be  Sunday,  I  remember. 
How  did  it  go?" 

He  clambered  up  to  me  and  laughed  ruefully.    I 
105 


io6  JOHN    THE    FOOL 

caught  one  of  the  hands  he  had  tried  to  conceal. 
"I'll  get  broken  in  pretty  soon.  The  levers  and  the 
cable  with  which  we  work  that  crane  are  a  bit  rough 
at  first." 

The  blood  was  all  but  starting  through  his  palms. 
I  nearly  cried  out  my  sympathy,  and  his  face  set 
to  that  hard  sullenness  that  had  been  on  it  these 
weeks.  "Now,  don't,  Doctor  Dick.  You  know  the 
compact.  And  I — I  wouldn't  have  him" — he  jerk 
ed  his  head  back  to  the  prairie — "  know  how  it — 
hurt.  I  wiped  the  blood  off  inside  my  shirt  when 
he  or  Big  Jim  came  near." 

And  my  boy  smiled  down  at  me.  Somehow  that 
first  day  at  the  man's  size  job  had  put  a  buoyance 
in  him  that  was  good  to  see.  He  made  a  gesture  to 
the  north.  "Mary,  I  wonder  what  she'd  think?" 

"She'd  dash  about  for  peroxide,  or  cold  cream 
in  her  efficient  manner.  She'd  be — well  she'd  be 
beautifully  proud." 

His  face  darkened  again.  "Well,  it's  all  off. 
She's  free,  and  so  am  I.  When  I  work  out  this 
slave  debt  to  this  fellow,  I'll  pull  off  somewhere 
in  the  world  and  have  a  swing  for  myself." 

"She  loves  you,  Clell." 

"No."  He  laughed  again.  "When  a  woman  won't 
give  up  her  pretty  things  and  take  a  chance  on  facing 


THE    WAY    TO    BEGIN  107 

the  hard  grind  for  a  few  years  with  a  fellow,  she 
doesn't  love  him  much.  Mary's  read  too  much,  and 
thought  too  much.  She's  a  dear  girl  and  all  that — 
and  a  wonder  for  her  type,  but  I — well,  now  I'm 
away,  I  can  see  everything  clearly." 

"But  you  love  her,  Clell." 

He  twisted  as  if  an  old  pain  had  him.  "I'm  com 
ing  through,  Doctor  Dick.  I'm  through  with 
women.  That  Williams  taught  me  one  thing.  I  can 
stand  alone  and  upright  and  face  him.  As  good  a 
man  as  he.  As  strong  as  he.  I  hate  him — and  I  want 
him  to  feel  it.  He  does  feel  it — but  his  hands  are 
tied.  When  this  debt  is  paid  I'll  tell  him  to  his 
face — a  good  many  things;  he'll  have  to  be  a  man 
to  stand  for  it."  He  laughed  again  but  bitterly. 
I  tried  to  gage  that  monstrosity  that  had  come 
to  the  soul  of  my  sunny-hearted  lad  of  a  few 
years  ago.  Hate?  There  was  no  room  for  it  in 
Clell,  but  there  it  stood  between  the  two. 

He  suddenly  gripped  my  shoulders  with  his  torn 
palms.  "Old  Dick,  you  ought  not  to  be  mixed  in  it. 
But  God  bless  you!  I  might  have  killed  him,  if 
you  hadn't.  The  way  Mary  looked  at  me.  You 
know  I  wasn't  dishonest.  I  lost  my  sister's  little 
fortune  trying  to  start  an  electrical  business  up  in 
the  state  with  Fred  Hite.  It  was  all  for  Mary — 


io8  JOHN    THE    FOOL 

but  she  never  knew.  When  I  lost  and  was  cornered, 
Mary  didn't  seem  to  sympathize — she  merely  looked 
at  it  with  her  clear  business  practicality — and  then 
came  Williams  and  his  money." 

I  nodded.  "But  if  you  hadn't  been  so  high-head 
ed.  Boy,  if  you'd  have  let  me  pay  that  miserable 
two  thousand  back  to  him,  you'd  have  been  free." 

"That  isn't  the  point.  He  smiled — and  looked 
at  Mary,  as  much  as  to  say  I  wasn't  equal  to  paying 
him.  As  to  your  paying,  dear  Dick,  you're  not  so 
rich  yourself  that  you  can  spend  money  foolishly." 

"I  have  worked  too  hard  for  my  money  to  tolerate 
any  suggestion  that  I  may  not  spend  it  foolishly 
if  I  choose.  You  and  Mary  always  scolded  me 
about  spending  my  money."  I  spoke  testily.  These 
young  people  were  always  condescending  to  me — 
there  was  Laure  and  her  duck. 

Clell  was  poking  about  the  platform.  "How  did 
you  get  on  with  the  old  chap?" 

"Well  enough.  I  have  had  my  coffee  and  so  has 
he.  Then  his  man  Friday  went  off  again,  and  the 
baron,  having  called  for  a  jug  of  his  Hungarian 
wine,  rolled  over  and  went  to  sleep  again.  He 
snored  just  now." 

"There's  something  rather  funny  about  all  this 
work.  Yesterday,  from  the  dredge  I  looked  off  to 


THE    WAY    TO    BEGIN  109 

the  Isle  Bonne  forest  and  in  an  old  dead  tree,  away 
off,  I  know  I  saw  a  man  watching  us.  And  Mangy, 
the  cook,  saw  him  too.  He  muttered  and  rolled  his 
eyes,  but  I  noticed  he  said  nothing  to  Williams  or 
Big  Jim.  He  just  nodded  to  me  and  muttered: 
'Dem  old  pirate  folkses.'  And  Mangy's  so  absent- 
minded  that  he's  an  atrocious  cook.  How  did  you 
get  on  here  for  dinner?" 

"Duck,"  I  responded,  absently  smelling  of  my  col 
lar:  "With  gravy — rather  hot." 
"And  the  princess — was  she  here?" 
"She  served  the  duck  and  then  put  off." 
"Gee!"  he  retorted:  "There's  some  girl!  She 
got  me,  Doctor  Dick — big!  I'm  tired  of  Mary's 
crowd — they're  super-civilized.  Bright  and  clever, 
but  they  can't  love  any  more.  Too  cool,  and  looking 
for  the  main  chance.  I'm  tired  of  cleverness.  It 
isn't  the  fashion  to  lead  simple  contented  lives  any 
more.  If  a  man  said  he  was  really  contented  and 
happy,  people'd  say  he  was  a  quitter.  The  women 
of  Mary's  crowd  look  on  their  husbands  as  sort 
of  good  old  work-dogs  that  they're  fond  of,  after 
a  fashion — as  they  would  be  of  any  useful  animal 
that  didn't  take  up  too  much  of  their  time.  They 
give  him  sort  of  a  companionship — that's  the  essence 
of  their  modernity.  And  I'm  glad  I  see  it  now — 


no  JOHN    THE    FOOL 

that  I  turned  back.  I  want  something  primal  where 
women  have  passion  and  the  flash  of  savagery,  and 
give  all  recklessly  and  demand  all." 

"The  duck  season,"  I  put  in  irrelevantly,  "is  clos 
ed  by  law  now.  I  wish  there  was  a  closed  season  on 
women — women  with  a  flash  of  savagery.  Hear  the 
baron  snore — it's  big  and  primal." 

"There  you  go,  Doctor  Dick,  funning  away  about 
real  things  as  if  they  didn't  matter.  If  Williams 
was  blotted  out,  I'd  enjoy  all  this."  And  he  clench 
ed  those  bruised  hands  of  his — and  winced. 

I  faced  about  on  him  squarely.  "See  here,  don't 
go  to  talking  all  this  fantastic  idealism  to  the  baron. 
He'll  have  you  for  Number  Two !" 

"What  on  earth  are  you  talking  about?" 

"Never  mind.  As  for  women,  much  as  I  love 
Mary,  I  can  not  quite  reconcile  myself  to  them.  The 
notion  that  they  have  anything  to  do  with  happi 
ness  is  absurd.  Happiness  is  solely  a  thing  of 
one's  soul.  Women  are  never  fair  to  their  enemies 
nor  absolutely  generous  to  their  friends — they  play 
with  an  ace  up  their  sleeve.  They  marry  for  a 
variety  of  reasons  of  which  love  is  the  fifth  or 
sixth." 

He  denounced  me  with  the  inevitable  intolerance 
of  the  optimist.  He  had  not  yet  had  his  duck.  I 


THE   WAY    TO    BEGIN  in 

saw  between  Clell,  in  his  new  if  confused  ardor, 
and  the  baron  with  his  musty  chivalry,  a  bachelor 
would  have  a  hard  time  to  keep  his  pipe  sweet. 
And  that  Creole  girl  would  come  back — I  hoped  it 
would  not  be  a  tureen  of  soup  the  next  time. 

We  smoked  and  idled  lazily.  The  sun  swung 
about  the  shadows  of  the  baron's  pool.  The  beauty 
of  that  morning  I  can  not  tell  you.  The  arching  and 
tenebrous  silence,  the  warm  sweet  twilight,  a  tawny 
velvet  which  the  sun  could  not  quite  dispel. 

The  noon  was  near,  and  its  somnolence  was  on 
us,  when  I  heard  a  grating  under  the  platform. 
Then  above  it  arose  Laure's  head.  Her  small  and 
exquisite  ear  was  so  close  I  might  have  touched  it, 
and  her  dark  eyes  widened.  She  evidently  was 
startled  to  see  me,  thinking  I  must  have  departed 
in  a  huff.  As  she  climbed  up  she  nodded  tartly. 
Then  at  sight  of  Clell,  her  sparkle  came.  She  held 
both  hands  to  him. 

"Ah,  m'sieu!  So,  already,  you  come  to  see  me. 
It  is  good — you  have  not  forgotten." 

"I  couldn't  forget  the  honey  bees — and  you.  I 
was  intending  to  try  to  get  through  the  swamp  this 
afternoon  to  call  at  Papa  Prosper's." 

She  felt  real  alarm.  "Don't  you  eve'  try  that.  A 
Yankee  fel-lo!  The  deep  swamp,  m'sieu" — she 


ii2  JOHN   THE    FOOL 

looked  about —  "this  is  nothing  to  it!  This  little 
cheniere  on  this  side  Isle  Bonne  they  call  John- 
the-Fool." 

"Excellently  named,"  I  murmured,  and  she  dis 
regarded  me. 

"Don't  you  eve'  go  no  farther  than  John-tile 
Fool.  You  can  always  see  me  here.  Always  I  come 
to  see  if  Allesjandro  feed  the  baron  as  he  should. 
And  talk.  At  Papa  Prosper's — ah,  well !  The  talk 
is  mostly  crabs  and  seed  catalogue.  Here  we  talk 
about  dukes." 

"Dukes  and  ducks,"  I  murmured  again,  and  she 
shrugged.  I  refused  to  be  ignored,  even  if  these 
two  young  persons  already  had  no  use  for  anything 
but  each  other. 

Then  I  heard  the  baron  bawling  from  his  bed. 
Within  one  saw  the  bar  over  his  blankets  convul 
sing.  Then  the  hank  of  his  pipe  came  out.  From 
under  the  bunk  crawled  the  spike-tailed  pup.  The 
upheaval  of  the  clothing  continued;  the  baron's 
foot  stuck  out. 

"Mademoiselle,  is  that  you?  Ah,  I  heard  that 
voice!  I  see  the  sun — mademoiselle,  will  you  put 
the  garden  out  in  its  sunshine?" 

"Oh,  oui I"  She  broke  away  from  Clell.  And 
then,  about  the  corner  of  the  camp  she  reappeared 


THE    WAY   TO    BEGIN  113 

trundling  a  wheelbarrow.  On  it  was  a  sort  of 
box.  The  teetering  load  was  almost  too  much,  and 
Clell  hastened. 

"Merci!"  she  said,  with  exasperating  prettiness, 
and  left  it  to  him.  But  from  the  baron's  bar 
came  a  volley  of  objurgation : 

"Le  nom  de  Dieu!  Marquise,  the  Yankee  will 
spill  it!  Ah,  our  garden!  To  the  rescue,  madem 
oiselle!  From  his  clumsy  hands — rescue!" 

Out  he  rolled  in  his  red  robe-de-nuit.  His  shock 
of  white  hair  stood  every  way,  his  porpoise  body 
jellied  as  he  strode. 

Clell  was  parading  the  wheelbarrow  lucklessly 
here  and  there. 

"Here,  messieur!  In  the  sunshine — here!"  She 
pointed  to  the  only  bar  of  the  sunlight  that  fell 
through  John-the-Fool's  high-arching  canopy.  Clell 
chased  it  wildly  and  engineered  the  garden  there. 

The  baron  was  following.  "Ah,  young  man, 
careful !"  He  stopped,  wheezing  over  the  barrow.  In 
the  slab  box,  perhaps  three  feet  by  three,  filled  with 
rich  mold  was  a  valiant  array  of  lettuce,  onions, 
radishes  and  a  lone  cucumber  vine.  Bravely  they 
looked  up  to  the  sunshine.  Proudly  down  gazed 
the  baron.  He  patted  the  lustiest  radish  of  the 
three. 


114  JOHN    THE    FOOL 

"Pardon,  messieur,  but  I  could  not  trust  you — 
you  can  not  realize  that  this  is  the  only  sweet  earth 
on  this  side  the  swamp.  At  what  labor  we  brought 
it  through  from  Isle  Bonne!  And  the  sun? — le 
diable!  Such  a  morsel  as  we  get  here.  All  the 
time  one  must  chase  it — after  two  o'clock  there  is 
none  whatever!" 

"It  will  have  most  two  hours  more,  Messieur  le 
Baron.  Ah,  the  cucumber — one  can  hear  it  cry 
with  joy !"  Laure  fondled  it  lovingly.  Clell  watch 
ed  that  small  hand.  What  affection  to  place  on  a  cu 
cumber  ! 

The  baron  went  back  to  his  dressing.  He  put 
on  his  green  cap  of  the  feather  and  lighted  his  pipe 
before  he  drew  the  curtains.  Then  I  heard  his 
phonograph  rustily  clawing  out  a  duo  of  Rigoletto, 
and  his  rattly  old  voice  following,  as  he  searched  for 
his  socks. 

Laure  and  Clell  were  inspecting  the  garden.  "You 
are  sitting  exact  in  our  best  sunshine,  Doctor!" 
she  exclaimed,  and  that  was  the  first  recognition 
of  me.  I  moved  over  humbly.  "Now  move  our 
garden  into  its  sunshine,  M'sieu  Redfield.  The  little 
sweet  earth!  It  is  a  treasure.  We  must  watch 
that  dog — he  all  a-time  steals  the  sunshine  from  our 
garden." 


THE    WAY    TO    BEGIN  115 

The  reproved  pup  gazed  from  afar.  Certainly 
he  would  like  to  lie  in  that  sunshine.  We  had 
both  lost  the  light  of  her  pleasure. 

Then  we  were  asked  in  to  breakfast.  Alles- 
jandro  was  still  gone  mysteriously,  but  the  baron  ex 
plained,  although  we  had  had  our  early  coffee,  more 
coffee  would  do  excellently  for  dejeuner. 

Clell  glanced  up  at  the  baronial  rafters.  Brown 
they  were,  and  hung  with  gay  peppers,  garlic  beads, 
mink  pelts,  bay  leaves,  a  rusty  helmet,  crab  bait 
of  dried  beef  sinew,  and  plunder  of  all  sort.  Then 
his  eye  came  down  again  to  the  baron's  battered 
but  exquisite  coffee  urn.  Laure  was  pouring. 

"By  jove!"  he  cried.  "You  can't  tell  how  fine 
this  is,  mademoiselle, — and  how  you  are  doing  it!" 

"Could  not  I  carve  a  duck?"  she  inquired:  "or 
hold  my  fork  so — correctly,  messieur?" 

"The  perfection  of  all  perfection's  as  it  is!"  he 
cried. 

"That  it  the  way  to  begin,"  she  observed,  and 
looked  at  me  and  then  the  baron.  The  baron  look 
ed  at  me  with  vast  new  doubt.  I  had  a  curious 
resentment  at  all  this  fine  youth  of  the  two  of  them. 
They  paid  no  attention  to  us.  None  whatever.  The 
baron  tried  to  interpose  some  of  his  persiflage,  and 
she  inquired  of  Clell  did  he  not  love  her  island 


n6  JOHN   THE   FOOL 

more  and  more?  Did  he  not  despise  dirty  dredges 
that  turned  up  the  mud?  Mon  Dieu!  What  infamy! 
No  gentleman  would  do  it.  I  grew  jealous.  T  was 
glad  when  there  came  an  apoplectic  gasp  from  the 
baron.  He  pointed  out  the  door  speechlessly. 

Laure  shrieked.  We  all  started  to  our  feet.  The 
luckless  pup  had  upset  the  garden  out  of  its  sun 
shine.  The  wood  saint  was  in  tears. 


CHAPTER  VII 

THE   EDUCATION    OF    LAURE 

THE  end  of  the  following  week  I  made  the 
second  of  the  reports  to  Mary  which  I  had 
promised.  I  had  the  entire  morning  to  myself,  for 
Baron  de  Vedrinnes  and  his  man  Friday  had  gone 
into  the  deep  swamp,  and  Laure  had  not  been  near 
us  for  two  days.  So  I  put  things  with  some  delib 
eration,  and,  I  fear,  asperity.  The  week  had  not 
made  me  more  enamored  of  John-the-Fool. 

"That,  my  dear,"  I  wrote  her,  "is  the  name  of  the 
place,  apparently.  Although  there  is  no  longer  any 
place.  I  am  roosting  between  three  trees  and  a  lot 
of  poles  thrust  into  the  water  on  which  is  the  castle 
— it  seems  that  what  was  left  of  Cheniere  John-the 
Fool  after  the  last  gulf  hurricane  in  ninety-three, 
is  merely  Congo  snakes  and  mosquitoes  and  incom 
parable  sunsets,  that  is,  what  one  can  see  of  the  sun 
for  the  forest.  I  have  a  job  now.  It  is  to  chase 
the  sun  with  our  garden  which  has  been  rehabilitat 
ed.  The  little  radish  is  doing  well  now,  but  the 
cucumber  is  ailing.  I  mentioned  Baron  John  Bernal 
de  Vedrinnes;  he  is  much  worried  about  the  cu 
cumber  which  he  had  planned  to  have  in  a  salad  on 

117 


n8  JOHN   THE    FOOL 

July  fourteenth,  when  he  and  Mademoiselle  Drouil- 
lot  will  celebrate  the  fall  of  the  Bastile.  He  does 
not  approve  of  the  fall  but  bows  to  her  Republican 
instincts.  I  mentioned  mademoiselle,  did  I  not? 
She  is  the  one  who  hit  me  with  the  duck. 

"You  ask  me  of  Clell.     My  dear,  things  go  no 
better  with  the  two.    I  haven't  much  heart  to  stay 
about  the  dredge — it  is  an  infernal  affair,  anyway, 
of  heat  and  noise  and  dirt.     But  all  day  and  half 
the  night  Virgil  smashes  away  on  his  canal — the  ma 
chine  is  far  off  now  through  the  dead  trees  and  into 
the  flottant  as  they  call  the  floating  land.     He  has 
only  got  half  enough  men,  and  they  are  all  dog- 
tired  and  grim  and  silent  at  night  when  I  paddle 
to  the  bunk-house  and  try  to  cheer  things  along. 
And  the  disheartening  situation  between  Clell  and 
Virgil  does  not  change.     They  watch  each  other 
across  a  gulf  of  hate;  and  the  fact  that  Clell  has 
never  whimpered  when  he  worked  Virgil's  levers 
with  his  hands  dripping  blood  only  made  Williams 
smile.     He  was  expecting  the  boy  to  break,  and 
Clell  has  met  every  demand  on  him.     He  is  just  a 
trifle   insolent,   and   I   fear — oh,   my  dear!    I   am 
afraid  for  them!     The  only  time  Clell  is  himself  is 
when  he  comes  over  here  to  this  ridiculous  board 
ing-house  of  mine — then  you    ought    to    see    him 
change.     That  Creole  girl  of  Isle  Bonne  interests 
him — he's  like  the  old  Clell  of  five  years  ago  when 
he's  with  us.     She  comes  of  a  scandalous  line  of 
pirates  and  privateers,  and  now  and  then  it  shows 
plain  enough.     Big  Jim,  the  day  engineman,  says 
she  would  not  hestitate  to  dynamite  the  dredge  to 
ruin  Mr.  Williams,  if  they  ever  gave  her  the  chance. 
She  says  so  herself.    I  can't  understand  Virgil  say 
ing  once  he  loved  her.    I  told  Clell  of  it,  and  the 


THE    EDUCATION    OF    LAURE      119 

way  he  smiled  was  not  good.  The  two  of  them 
seem  to  run  to  a  clash  everywhere.  It  is  a  sad 
mess.  Virgil's  men  have  not  been  paid  for  weeks, 
and  only  loyalty  to  him  holds  them  here — he's  about 
given  up  the  hope  of  aid  from  the  company  to 
finish  his  ditch  and  if  anything  happens  now  he's 
wiped  out.  And  the  baron  chuckles,  and  Laure 
shrugs  and  smiles.  I  do  believe  she  is  trying  to  win 
Clell  away  from  Virgil's  job — that's  why  she  co 
quets  with  him  so  outrageously.  She  treats  me 
vilely. 

"Oh,  Mary,  I  wish  this  abominable  thing  had 
never  happened! 

"Old  Dick  still  loves  you." 

Our  mail  goes  out  by  means  of  a  pirogue  runner, 
usually,  to  catch  the  Barataria  mail-boat  which  runs 
down  to  the  south  coast  every  week,  so  getting 
a  letter  from  Isle  Bonne  to  New  York  is  less  cer 
tain  in  time  than  getting  one  to  St.  Petersburg. 
But  Mary  wrote  me  at  once. 

Very  brief  it  was;  I  recall  that  she  concluded  with 
a  curious  loneliness  for  one  of  her  busy  and  ever 
oncoming  life. 

But  she  began : 

"What  in  the  world  do  you  mean  about  the  little 
radish?     I  think  that  sun  has  affected  you — 
What  sort  of  an  appearing  person  is  this  Madem 
oiselle  Laure  Drouillot?     You  have  spoken  twice 
of  her  very  mysteriously.    I'm  glad  to  hear  Clell  is 


120  JOHN    THE    FOOL 

making  good.  Of  course  I  don't  expect  him  to  write 
to  me — the  breach  between  us  was  too  clear  and 
impassable,  wasn't  it,  dear  Dick?  Only  he  might 

— or  Virgil  might Somehow,  my  heart  is  with 

the  three  of  you  down  in  that  dreadful  place.  Some 
how,  life  and  work  seem  meaningless  of  late — I 
keep  thinking  of  the  three  of  you  and  your  madness. 
Dear  Dick,  how  good  it  was  of  you  to  go. 

"Mary. 

"P.  S.     Tell  me  more  about  this  island  girl." 

I  intended  to  write  back  at  once;  indeed,  I  was 
at  it  a  rare  morning  when  the  sweet  damp  breath 
of  the  flooded  forest  was  pouring  out  to  meet  the 
sun-margin  of  our  glade,  when  mademoiselle  her 
self  came  out  of  the  watery  isle  in  her  green  canoe. 
We  had  not  had  much  to  do  with  each  other  of 
late;  I  suppose  she  had  been  hunting  her  honey 
bees,  and  yet  why  should  one  take  axes  and  block 
pulleys  to  hunt  honey  as  twice  this  week  from  the 
baron's'  platform  I  had  seen  Allesjandro  do? 

She  came  up  and  finding  no  one  except  myself, 
sat  opposite  in  the  dining  hall  and  looked  at  my 
writing  portfolio.  I  glanced  up  to  see  her  chin  in 
her  hand  upon  the  table,  her  dark  eyes  thoughtful. 

"M'sieu,  do  you  consider  it  essential  to  be  my 
enemy  ?" 

"You  threw  at  me,  a  duck — " 


THE    EDUCATION    OF   LAURE      121 

"Ah,  will  you  never  forget  ?  Besides,  it  was  such 
a  little  one!" 

"Ah,  well,"  I  sighed.  "It  landed  close  to  my 
heart!" 

She  looked  at  me  suspiciously,  but  with  some  ap 
proval.  I  don't  know  why  I  said  it,  but  now  I  saw 
it  was  the  stuff  to  use.  She  smiled  with  long 
growing  pleasure. 

"One's  heart,  m'sieu — that  gives  one  such  a  trou 
ble.  My  heart  is  like  my  beautiful  isle  which  is 
being  cut  across  this  way  and  that,  and  claimed  and 
stormed  over  by  so  many  feelings.  The  baron 
say  it  is  proper  for  my  education  that  all  the  ones 
of  you  here  bother  me  so  for  love,  but  I  do  not 
want.  Ah,  now,  what  do  so  many  matter?" 

"Do  not  flatter  yourself.  They  are  all  too  busy 
except  me." 

She  broke  to  enrapturing  laughter.  "The  baron 
say:  'Mademoiselle,  I  have  made  an  agreement 
with  the  doctor-gentleman — he  has  contracted  to 
love  you  ardently,  so  that  when  you  come  to  your 
fortune  and  I  take  you  abroad,  you  shall  know  how 
men  speak  it  in  the  great  world.' ' 

"He  is  a  fool,  mademoiselle.  I'm  dashed  if  I 
will.  And  you  will  never  come  to  a  fortune.  You 
and  Papa  Prosper  are  beggars,  to  put  it  plainly. 


122  JOHN    THE    FOOL 

As  for  the  baron,  he  is  the  prince  of  illusions,  but 
you  must  not  let  him  drag  you  into  them.  Your  case 
comes  up  in  the  Court  of  Appeals,  I  understand,  next 
month.  It  is  practically  lost  now.  Soon  as  it  is  de 
cided  the  company  will  turn  loose  five  hundred  men 
and  dozens  of  machines  on  the  reclamation  ditches 
— and  the  days  of  your  old  pirate  line  in  Barataria 
are  done." 

She  laughed  again  joyously.  "Messieur  le  Baron 
he  say — " 

"I  don't  care  what  the  baron  says.  He'll  have 
his  finish  when  Virgil  Williams  gets  control  of  Isle 
Bonne.  He's  insulted  Williams  too  many  times  with 
his  asinine  theories  of  chivalry.  Why  should  Will 
iams  bother  about  you,  mademoiselle?  This  affair 
is  very  strictly  business,  as  you  will  discover." 

"Ah,  business !"  She  clasped  her  hands  pensively. 
"Messieur  le  Baron  say  business  is  a  pig.  M'sieu 
Williams,  never  can  he  love  me  in  the  world,  say 
Messieur  le  Baron,  and  be  so  for  business." 

"Get  out!"  I  roared.  "Le  nom  de  Dieu!  Dldble! 
Confound  you!  That  ass  of  a  baron  is  maddening. 
He  is  making  you  think  we  all  must  be  in  love  with 
you.  He  is  a  crazy  sentimentalist — he  is  a — " 

"Ah,  well !  He  speaks  so  prettily  to  me !  What, 
then,  can  a  woman  care,  if  he  be  eighty-eight  and 


123 

oh,  so  fat! — and  with  his  rooster  feather  and  all! 
I  laugh,  I  blush — some-a-time;  I  scold,  I  do  not 
believe,  and  run  away — but  I  look  back,  a  little  peek- 
look  to  see  and  listen  what  Messieur  le  Baron  say 
next  to  please  a  lady." 

"Laure,"  I  said  suddenly  and  soberly:  "where 
did  you  get  your  education?" 

"Ah,  m'sieu,  I  have  little  education.  Sometimes 
I  know  just  a  little  when  I  think  very  hard — hold 
my  head  so — this  a-way.  I  went  five  years  to  con 
vent  in  N'Awlyins.  A  little  piano  and  some  French 
of  Paris,  and  some  needle  work,  and  all  about 
some  queens  and  kings  of  La  Belle  France!  Then 
Papa  Prosper,  he  says :  'Come  home  to  Isle  Bonne, 
mademoiselle.  Men  are  beginning  to  fly  like  ducks 
and  talk  across  the  oceans.  Le  nom  de  Dieu!  The 
world,  he  ees  too  wise  fo'  you,  Laure — you  come 
back  to  Isle  Bonne.'  So,  I  come  back  to  my  island 
and  we  very  happy  until  M'sieu  Williams  come  to 
destroy  our  forests  and  make  smoke — Bom — such 
noise  and  smoke!" 

"Is  that  all,  mademoiselle,  that  Mr.  Williams 
did?" 

"Oh,  he  sit  and  stare  at  me — and  talk  frogs  with 
Papa  Prosper!" 

"Mademoiselle,"  I  said  severely,  looking  at  that 


124  JOHN    THE    FOOL 

long  slow  smile  of  hers,  "five  years  in  the  world 
— even  a  convent — were  quite  enough  for  you.  You 
know  too  much  now.  The  safest  thing  when  about 
you  is  to  talk  frogs.  Mr.  Williams  saw  that — he 
won't  pay  any  attention  to  you  till  he  gets  his  canal 
built.  Then,  I  fancy,  he'll  chuck  you  and  Papa 
Prosper  off  this  island.  And  the  baron — " 

"Ah,  the  baron!  He  say,  with  his  sword,  he  will 
protect  me !" 

"Williams  will  pull  his  castle  down  under  him." 
"Ah,  then,  M'sieu  Clell  will  protect  me !" 
"He,"  I  retorted  grimly,  "works  for  Williams — • 
and  anyhow,  you  can't  work  him!" 

"Ah,  then — dear  Doctor,  you  will  protect  me !" 
I  looked  at  her.  There  were  tears  in  her  eyes. 
I  had  never  seen  that  before.  Tears  on  her  long 
lashes  all  aglitter ;  and  her  child's  face  was  blurring. 
She  covered  it.  I  felt  like  a  pile-driver.  Ah,  if 
one  can  be  happy  on  one's  island,  it  is  a  shame  to 
drive  sticks  in  it  or  dig  it  up! 

"You  will  help  me,  m'sieu !  I  have  nobody.  Papa 
Prosper  he  no  care  for  any  one  except  his  seed  cat 
alogue  and  his  coffee.  Messieur  le  Baron,  when  he 
die,  I  can't  go  anywhere  to  talk.  There  will  be 
no  more  dukes  and  wars  and  castles  like  in  books; 
but  just  mostly  crabs — and  Antoine  gone  off  to  be 
abarbeh!" 


THE    EDUCATION    OF    LAURE      125 

"Let's  not  worry  yet.  My  dear  young  woman, 
I'm  mighty  sorry.  I — well,  if  I  owned  this  con 
founded  land  company,  I'd  break  it.  I — well,  now 
don't  weep.  I  won't  put  up  with  it — I — I — "  Now 
I  simply  had  to  take  her  hands  across  that  table.  If 
I  hadn't  she'd  have  wept  more.  I  had  to — and  she 
lifted  one  shoulder  to  wipe  her  eyes  across  her 
sleeve.  I  had  to  hold  her  shoulder  then,  and  mur 
mur  that  she  must  not  cry  any  more.  I  had  to 
murmur  other  things;  actually,  I  had  not  been  in 
such  a  state  for  twenty  years!  I  recalled  having 
had  my  arm  about  other  girls  in  other  years;  I 
remember  distinctly  how  soft  and  squirmy  they 
used  to  feel.  But  Laure  was  different  somehow. 
I  felt  strangely  content,  deliciously  at  home; 
she  looked  up  with  her  eyes  half  closed,  her 
lithe  young  form  tensed  against  me,  and  from  her 
hair  was  disengaged  a  faint  adorable  perfume — 
but  it  may  have  been  some  stuff  the  barber  sent  her. 

"Ah,  my  dear,"  I  whispered.  "What  does  it  mat 
ter?  Suppose  that  I — even  a  crabbed  bachelor- 
doctor,  such  as  I — suppose  he  would  protect  you  to 
the  end?  Suppose  he — he — " 

"Loved  me?"  she  murmured  back,  and  her  eyes 
grew  orient-long  in  the  shadows  of  the  cypress 
arches,  where  the  sweet  damp  of  her  flooded  isle 
breathed  out  to  us. 


126  JOHN    THE    FOOL 

"Crazy  about  you!"  I  whispered  back.  "Oh, 
the  fool  I  am !  What  the  devil  am  I  at  ?" 

"You  are  stroking  my  cheek,  dear  Doctor!" 

"What  am  I  doing?" 

"You  are  kissing  me,  dear  Doctor!" 

I  groaned.  I  kissed  her  again,  and  groaned  again 
at  the  delight  of  it.  She  was  no  more  like  the 
last  woman  I  kissed  twenty  years  ago  than  hair  tonic 
is  like  the  odor  of  the  ferns  on  Isle  Bonne  ridges. 

"I've  fallen  completely.  I — I — oh,  Laure,  what 
do  you  mean  by  trapping  me  so!  I — I — and  you 
— it's  madness !" 

"Ah,  such  madness!  Such  dear,  dear  madness! 
And  you  tried  to  detest  me — and  I  you!  The 
wretched  duck  I  hurled  at  you,  mon  cher!  You  will 
be  my  knight,  too,  won't  you — like  the  baron!" 

"Worse!"  I  cried.    "Or  better — whichever  it  is!" 

"Ah,  now,  you  will  help  me  find  my  fortune!" 

"Exactly!     Where  is  it?" 

"I  don't  know.  Messieur  le  Baron  is  much  dis 
turbed.  He  has  had  the  negroes  dig  everywhere. 
Armand's  ship  went  down  in  Bayou  John-the-Fool 
—ah,  but  where  ?" 

"Ha!"  I  shouted.    "That's  it— where?" 

"You  will  assist  us?" 

"I  will  do  anything,  my  darling,  except  dig.     I 


THE    EDUCATION    OF    LAURE      127 

am  no  good  in  the  mud.  I  will  scout  or  stand  guard 
with  Messieur  le  Baron's  sword.  I — ah,  I  love 
you!" 

With  what  rapture  her  eyes  shone !  She  ran  back 
laughingly  across  the  baron's  dining  hall  and  kissed 
me.  "Ah,  mon  Dieu! — who  would  have  thought 
such  a  miracle!  My  treasure  of  a  doctor!" 

There  was  a  scraping  at  the  platform.  Laure  re 
leased  me  and  stole  out,  pushing  up  her  rumpled  hair 
as  she  went.  I  heard  a  wheezy  inquiry  from  Mess 
ieur  le  Baron.  Then  her  soft  answer.  How  that 
accent  melted  with  the  breeze  over  her  island  marsh, 
how  adorable  her  eagerness  to  the  baron !  I  slipped 
to  my  bedroom  and  brushed  my  hair  palpitatingly. 
Ah,  what  a  secret  we  had  now,  she  and  I? — who 
would  suppose  that  she  would  be  at  once  enamored 
of  her  bald-headed  doctor! 

Then  through  the  thin  walls  of  the  shack  I  heard 
Laure  breathing  hard  as  she  assisted  the  apoplectic 
knight  over  the  platform's  edge. 

"Messieur  le  Baron,  I  have  almost  got  another 
one  a\vay  from  Messieur  Williams'  dredge  com 
pany.  Ah,  how  well  he  does  it,  just  as  you  said,  dear 
Baron!  A  man  of  feeling  and  culture  helps  a  great 
deal  with  my  education  for  dukes,  just  as  you  said, 
dear  Baron." 


128  JOHN    THE    FOOL 

Messieur  le  Baron  gurgled  something  I  could  not 
make  out  but  it  had  to  do  with  his  buttons  and  the 
height  of  the  platform.  Then  he  sat  up  and  went  on : 
"Supurb,  mademoiselle!  We  shall  keep  them  all 
guessing.  And  I  have  a  great  plan — we  shall  invite 
them  all  to  Papa  Prosper's  for  a  ball — the  fiddler 
has  arrived  at  Cheniere  Couquille,  and  we  can  have 
a  ball." 

"A  pawty!  Then  I  can  wear  my  gown  again. 
Messieur  Williams  shall  see — " 

"I  was  not  thinking  of  the  mud  grubber — only  to 
discomfit  him!" 

"Ah,  me !"  she  sighed,  "all-a-time  everybody  help 
at  my  education  except  him!" 

I  combed  the  rest  of  my  hair  while  their  voices 
became  more  cautiously  subdued.  Then  I  sat  down 
and  added  a  postscript  to  Mary's  letter : 

"She  has  got  another  one.  I  am  it.  After  me  it 
will  be  Big  Jim,  and  then  Mangy,  the  cook.  That 
will  be  Virgil's  finish.  Ah,  my  dear  and  self-suffi 
cient  Mary,  I  am  a  fool.  But  you  ought  to  see  her 
— besides,  there  is  nothing  to  do  at  John-the-Fool 
except  educate  Laure,  and  I  was  as  lonesome  as  the 
little  radish." 

"Your  disconsolate  Dick." 


CHAPTER  VIII 

HIS    LAST    MARQUISE 

THE  spring  drouth  was  on  the  swamp  this 
month.  The  trembling  prairie,  from  the  mir 
rored  pools  of  our  cypress  island  to  the  far  shin 
ing  reefs  of  the  gulf  was  a  myriad-voiced  murmur 
when  the  dry  cane  rustled  in  the  wind.  Under  the 
yellow  stalks  the  green  young  shoots  grew  from  the 
water.  Once  far  off  in  the  blue  east  a  great  column 
of  dun  smoke  hung  for  days  over  the  Mississippi 
passes,  rising  out  of  the  infinite  and  unseen  marshes 
so  that  it  seemed  as  if  the  sea  itself  was  burning.  All 
night  long  the  shadows  of  the  baron's  glade  were 
faint  amber  with  a  tint  of  red,  and  where  the  smoke 
drifted  into  our  cypress  aisles  it  appeared  impris 
oned  and  never  to  rise  again  in  the  windless  depths. 
I  had  made  my  first  venture  into  the  deep  swamp. 
Laure  took  me  in  her  green  canoe.  It  required  a 
deal  of  faith  to  step  down  in  that  oscillating  needle 
of  wood;  the  slightest  idea  on  the  wrong  side  of 
one's  head  would  have  upset  its  equilibrium.  She 
paddled  into  pathless  runs  of  pools  of  the  forest  and 

129 


130  JOHN    THE    FOOL 

then  let  us  drift  while  I  stared  into  that  gray 
changeless  silence.  Black  water  below  and  the 
straight-running  and  cathedral-like  spaces  of  the 
hanging  moss  above,  with  here  and  there  a  faint 
high  fleck  of  the  sky  beyond  the  tallest  cypress  tops. 
The  deep  swamp  of  Isle  Bonne  was  appalling;  I  saw 
Laure  smiling  at  the  blankness  of  my  look  when  I 
had  drunk  it  all  in. 

"Are  you  coming,  m'sieu,"  she  said  airily,  "to 
my  pawty  ?" 

"Party?"  I  cried  incredulously.  "Where  on 
earth?" 

She  pointed  a  dripping  blade  into  the  sunless 
depths.  "At  Papa  Prosper's.  They  all  coming — 
from  Africa,  and  Free  Camp,  and  Bassa  Bassa  and 
Old  Cheniere  and  John-the-Fool." 

"Who?" 

"Oh,  everybody.  The  music  was  broke  at  the  last 
ball  at  La  Cheniere,  but  now  Sim,  he  fixed  it.  He 
put  two  nails  in  it.  Dear  Doctor,  the  baron  is  not 
so  growly  at  all  you  Yankees  as  formerly.  He  says 
let  us  have  a  pawty,  and  serve  sherbet  anisette  and 
gumbo  file.  It  will  be  part  of  my  education,  says 
Messieur  le  Baron,  although  there  will,  of  course,  be 
no  dukes  or  anything  like  that,  says  Messieur  le 
Baron." 


HIS    LAST    MARQUISE  131 

"Very  well,"  I  answered,  "we'll  go  to  your  pawty. 
You  know  I  told  you  distinctly  that  I  loved  you. 
Now  is  Messieur  le  Baron  satisfied  ?" 

She  broke  to  soft  laughter.  I  hated  to  be  a  joke 
even  for  Laure.  I  went  on  irascibly :  "Or  is  it  that 
you  merely  got  another  one  ?" 

She  looked  wide-eyed  and  murmured:  "Oh,  you 
a  very  wise  man,  dear  Doctor.  But  I  love  you  a  lit 
tle  bit.  Oh,  just  a  little  bit,  but  then  a  good  deal  for 
such  a  little  bit.  You  can  dance  at  my  pawty." 

I  went  down  to  the  dredge  at  dusk  when  the  lean- 
faced  and  weary  crew  was  coming  off.  It  was  a 
warm  night,  the  air  coming  from  the  black  box 
of  a  machine  heavy  with  oil  smells  and  burned 
waste.  Clell  came  down  from  the  crane  where  he 
had  doggedly  mastered  the  shovel  through  the  weeks. 
I  got  a  curious  new  impression  of  him,  his  easy 
slouch  and  ease  and  assertion.  Silently  they  had 
watched  him,  Virgil  and  the  big  engineer,  for  the 
break  that  never  came.  But  the  atmosphere  of  con 
straint  on  the  dredge  was  intolerable  to  me.  They 
had  not  bridged  the  gulf;  except  curt  orders  no 
word  had  passed  between  them.  Virgil  was  harassed 
by  other  things  as  well.  The  men  he  had  hoped  for 
from  the  city  for  his  night  shift  had  not  come.  He 
had  gone  to  the  city  once  to  plead  for  credit  on 


132  JOHN    THE    FOOL 

supplies;  and  had  come  back  grimly  facing  defeat. 
But  the  dredge  fought  on  with  the  four  of  them 
alone.  When  gears  broke,  Big  Jim  and  Williams 
hammered  out  the  repairs  in  the  sooty  forge-room, 
and  again  the  monster  ground  its  way  seaward. 
Once  a  tow-steamer  brought  a  barge  of  crude  oil  and 
was  compelled  to  lay  out  in  the  lake  for  a  week  un 
til  Virgil  arranged  payment  for  the  cargo.  I  don't 
know  how  it  was  done.  He  brought  down  black 
men  for  his  fire-room  and  the  dynamite  crew  that 
went  ahead  in  the  swamp  to  blow  out  the  remnants 
of  the  sunken  primeval  forest  which  lay  in  his  right- 
of-way — and  saw  them  desert  or  rebel  and  disap 
pear,  one  after  another.  And  he  patiently  rear 
ranged  his  working  force  and  went  ahead.  The 
dredge  had  not  stopped.  Of  that  he  was  sure. 
Somehow  in  that  his  honor  lay. 

"June  first,"  he  was  murmuring  now  to  me,  as  he 
stayed  a  moment,  "we'll  be  through  the  last  of  the 
dead  timbeh.  Then  the  survey  runs  straight 
through  the  flottant — I  got  a  two-yard  clam  for  the 
soft  stuff  and  we'll  jam  her  right  through  to  salt 
water.  I'm  going  to  win,  Doctor  Dick.  I  see  it  now 
— but  last  week!  Well,  I  ain't  sayin'  I'd  quit.  I 
just  didn't  see  how  I'd  raise  nine  hundred  dollars 


HIS    LAST    MARQUISE  133 

for  that  crude  oil — that's  all.  But  she's  here,  and 
Big  Jim's  feedin'  her  in.  I  feel  like  celebratin'." 

"Come  to  the  pawty,"  I  said.  "Saturday  night. 
You're  all  invited." 

He  motioned  to  the  island.  "That  bunch  ?"  Then 
the  serene  victoriousness  came  into  his  smile :  "Wait 
till  I  get  the  ditch  in — then  I'll  ask  'em  to  mine." 

"It'll  be  a  fine  pawty,"  I  retorted.  "And  you  can't 
refuse  the  lady.  You'll  go,  won't  you,  Clell?" 

"Sure  thing.  A  party  at  Papa  Prosper's  will  be 
something." 

Big  Jim  was  not  so  sure.  The  dredge  would  lay 
up  Saturday  night  for  the  usual  overhauling  and  in 
spection.  He  grinned  and  his  worn  blue  eyes  twin 
kled.  "Maybe  it  would  be  a  good  thing  to  turn 
loose — I'm  getting  mighty  restive  to  get  out  up  front 
for  a  bat  along  the  levee.  Not  that  there's  much  ex 
citement  at  these  cheniere  balls.  A  half-barrel  of 
red  wine,  and  Sim  at  his  accordion.  And  it'll  run 
all  night  and  the  next  afternoon  and  Sunday  night, 
and  any  fellow  who  stays  in  the  game  with  the  girls 
from  the  chenieres  won't  be  much  good  for  a  week 
after." 

Allesjandro  came  to  the  dredge  the  next  day  with 
many  amiable  gesticulations  to  extend  a  formal  in- 


134  JOHN   THE    FOOL 

vitation.  Ah,  the  ball  it  would  be !  Sim  would  be 
there  with  his  accordion  of  course.  "And,  m'sieu, 
mebbe  we  catch  a  leetle  riddle  from  Manila  Village. 
Yas,  it  sho'  fine  to  have  a  fiddle  with  dat  accordion. 
You-all  t'ink  you  be  there  ?" 

There  was  real  wistfulness  in  his  voice.  He  would 
have  the  Good  Child  at  the  end  of  the  canal  to  take 
us  around  the  lake  to  Isle  Bonne's  front  door.  There 
would  be  a  famous  breeze  surely  this  time  of  year; 
and  there  was  Mr.  Williams'  launch,  if  not  so.  Ah, 
this  time  surely,  messieur,  every  one  would  lay 
aside  these  bickerings  and  come  to  the  ball.  What 
was  all  this  squabble  in  the  courts — certainly  Papa 
Prosper  did  not  care,  and  as  for  the  baron — well, 
Allesjandro  waved  his  hand  with  superb  confidence : 
The  Baron  John  Bernal  de  Vedrinnes,  one  time  of 
Austria  and  the  Louisiana  Lottery  Company — that 
magnificent  gentleman,  who  could  doubt  the  man 
ner  in  which  he  would  entertain  his  enemies? 

"Tell  the  old  tom-cat,"  murmured  Virgil,  "that 
the  mob  will  be  there.  Only  clothes — clothes  is  some 
scarce  fo'  a  pawty.  We  ought  to  have  somebody 
along  with  this  bunch  to  be  pretty-man  f  o'  a  pawty." 
His  eyes  wandered  ever  so  lightly  over  Clell  then 
to  me.  "Big  Jim  and  me  ain't  in  it  much.  Once, 


HIS    LAST    MARQUISE  135 

out  in  that  western  country,  I  knew  a  cook  whose 
ambition  in  life  it  was  to  get  drunk  in  a  dress  suit. 
Yes,  seh — that's  all  he  talked  about  was  gettin' 
soused  in  evenin'  clothes.  He  was  with  our  outfit 
two  years,  and  all  the  time  he  rustled  chuck  he  told 
of  how  he  was  savin'  his  money  for  the  big  splash 
in  San  Antonio.  Well,  one  time  he  blew  on  us  and 
hit  San  Antone  with  the  best  goods  any  tailor  in 
Texas  ever  turned  out.  Yes,  seh,  that  cook  su'tiny 
had  'em.  Then  he  got  piped  and  went  to  the  best 
hotel  in  the  town  after  the  theater,  when  it  was 
livenin'  up  some.  And  while  he  stood  there  lookin' 
fo'  a  table  in  all  them  clothes,  some  fel-lo  sittin' 
under  a  little  old  palm  tree  in  that  dinin'-room  mo 
tions  him  over  and  says :  'Waiter,  bring  me  another 
demi-tassay.' 

"That  cook  sho'  came  right  back  to  the  Brazos 
and  blew  his  head  off  in  my  bunk-house." 

The  Texan  thought  of  his  cook  ruefully  a  moment 
while  we  laughed  and  then  his  dry  comment  came. 
"Clothes  is  all  right.  But  it  all  comes  down  to  a 
man  bein'  placed  right  in  his  heart.  Yes,  seh — 
there's  some  sense  of  ordeh  in  the  world.  That 
cook  was  a  right  fine  cook,  but  he  showed  up  like  a 
sifted  son-of-a-gun  in  evenin'  clothes.  Me — I'm  all 


136  JOHN    THE    FOOL 

right  smashin'  this  mud-scow  through  and  man- 
handlin'  niggers,  but  I — well,  I  got  some  sense  of 
ordeh!  So  I  stay  out  of  some  things." 

"But  you'll  come?"  I  said.  "It  won't  look  right 
for  all  the  boys  to  go  to  the  ball,  and  the  boss  stay 
away.  You  can't  afford  to  have  the  cajuns  think 
you're  sore  on  them." 

"You're  pretty  right,  Doctor  Dick.  Only" — His 
eye  wandered  over  his  loved  black  monster  squatting 
in  the  sere  rozo  cane  and  ahead  of  it  the  infinity  of 
the  man's  size  job — "Well,  Mangy  and  the  new 
nigger  can  hold  down  the  dredge  Saturday  night. 
Some  one's  got  to  stay." 

So  Allesjandro  carried  back  a  message  of  felici 
tations — and  one  could  trust  Allesjandro  to  paint 
them  to  his  master — all  the  Yankees  would  come  to 
the  ball.  When  I  paddled  back  down  the  canal  that 
night  I  caught  the  red  ember  of  the  baron's  pipe 
waving  through  the  twilight.  The  Good  Child  lay 
in  the  little  cove,  and  her  skipper  was  on  the  plat 
form.  Also  two  tall,  lazy  swamp  blacks  uprose,  and 
one  of  them  laid  hasty  hold  of  the  gun  beside  him 
at  sight  of  me.  The  old  man  made  a  quick  and  im 
perious  gesture  of  dissent.  Then  he  pounded  his 
usual  evening  greeting  to  me  on  the  floor.  I  was 
late  for  the  supper  that  his  man  had  just  served  but 


HIS    LAST    MARQUISE  137 

there  was  something  left — the  broiled  crabs  and  rice 
and  ship  bread  and  coffee.  He  arose  and  apologized 
fervently — and  like  stealthy  shadows  the  furtive 
blacks  slipped  away  in  the  flooded  forest.  But  I  had 
marked  them ;  and  the  baron  saw  it.  One  was  Hog- 
jaw,  the  fellow  who  had  last  deserted  Williams' 
crew;  and  the  other  I  guessed  was  the  outlaw, 
Crump,  of  whom  the  dredgemen  had  told  me — a 
renegade  who  had  taken  to  the  deep  swamp  after  a 
killing  in  a  levee  camp  on  the  river,  and  who  was 
a  "bad  nigger,"  generally. 

My  eye  went  after  the  two  pirogue  runners;  it 
was  the  first  time  we  had  connected  the  islanders 
directly  with  the  swamp  blacks  in  any  manner.  It 
confirmed  Virgil's  theory  of  the  disappearance  of 
his  crew;  they  were  enticed  away  or  waylaid  if  they 
would  not  desert.  Virgil  and  Big  Jim  had  sent 
word  long  ago  to  Crump  that  they  would  kill  him 
on  sight;  and  the  renegade  had  sent  back  his  inso 
lent  message :  "Come  in  and  take  me." 

The  baron  had  settled  back  in  his  chair.  "Alles- 
jandro  is  hiring  the  fellows  to  tong  his  oysters  in 
the  lower  bay,  my  friend,"  he  told  me  casually,  with 
a  wave  to  the  swampers. 

"Indeed  ?  I  thought  it  hardly  the  time  of  year  for 
that." 


138  JOHN    THE    FOOL 

"Ah,  that  is  so,  is  it  not?  Messieur,  what  a 
scoundrel  of  a  world  where  nothing  ever  appears  as 
it  should !"  His  bright  eye  sought  me  out  under  its 
shaggy  brow :  "My  dear  Doctor,  would  you  intrude 
a  mere  oyster  to  confuse  a  gentleman  such  as  I?" 

"I  would  merely  pick  the  pearl  of  truth  from  your 
shell." 

His  vast  gentle  laughter  came.  He  tapped  his 
knee  with  the  pipe. 

"Allesjandro,  a  glass  of  the  yellow  wine  for  the 
doctor.  He  is  worth  it,  he  amuses  me.  He  is  a  true 
friend  at  that;  I  told  my  little  marquise  this  morn 
ing  that  she  was  honored  twice  over — first,  that 
Messieur  le  Doctor  told  her  that  he  loved  her  as  was 
stipulated,  and  second,  that  he  seemed  to  mean  it !" 

"Did  she  tell  you  all  about  it !" 

"Capital!  To  the  last  detail.  She  enacted  it  to 
me  gravely — every  bit;  and  then  said  to  me,  most 
plaintively:  'Alas,  I  am  afraid  he  does  love  me.  It 
would  break  my  heart  to  pain  the  good  doctor !' ' 

"The  heart  of  the  good  doctor,"  I  rejoined,  "is 
not  a  cooking-school  custard  for  damsels  to  smear 
about  at  their  pleasure."  I  leaned  to  him  and  tapped 
his  pipe :  "Go  catch  your  dukes,  my  dear  Baron — 
your  happy  islander  can  smile  and  she  can  weep. 
What  more  education  does  she  need  ?" 


HIS    LAST    MARQUISE  139 

"Ah,"  he  sighed.  "I  must  get  her  away  within  a 
year.  I  am  positively  glad  you  came — you  and  this 
alert  young  man  from  the  north — it  has  made  her 
forget  the  cursed  barber  against  whom  I  fought,  in 
her  heart,  for  two  years.  But,  ah — a  woman!  One 
never  can  tell.  I  have  had  experience." 

"You  have  not  profited  by  experience,  it  seems." 
"Never!  What  is  so  unprofitable?  It  argues  a 
hardening  of  the  heart — a  sophistication  of  the  soul, 
when  a  man  should  be  keeping  his  sensibilities  green 
for  the  ever-recurring  whims  of  fortune.  Messieur, 
the  field  in  which  a  man  can  make  an  ass  of  him 
self  is  illimitable — that  is  what  keeps  one  young  of 
heart."  He  waved  his  prodigious  pipe:  "Look  at 
me  now.  Five  fortunes  have  I  made  and  lost,  and 
at  last,  being  seventy-five  and  penniless  again,  I  saw 
what  absurd  penalties  one  pays  for  industry  and 
application.  I  roared  to  myself :  'Here,  you — John 
Bernal,  from  now  on  you  shall  devote  yourself  to 
the  fashioning  of  one  last  exquisite  thing  before 
death  comes  like  a  frowsy  old  woman  and  throws 
a  pan  of  dirty  water  over  you.  You  shall  find  your 
last  romance,  you  shall  come  to  a  child's  delight,  you 
shall  thrill  with  the  nobleness  of  service  again,  and 
then  die  like  a  beggar  in  the  road,  but  with  the  last 
of  life's  gold  just  slipped  from  your  fingers.'  There- 


140  JOHN    THE    FOOL 

fore  I  wandered,  seeking  it — and  behold !  The  gods 
threw  me  this  way — to  my  marquise  of  the  isle !  Ah, 
is  she  not  beautiful?" 

"I  suppose  so,"  I  murmured  languidly  to  all  his 
chatter. 

"Sir?"  He  sat  up  straightly. 

'Really,  my  dear  Baron,  on  her  nose,  one  im 
agines  the  ghost  of  a  freckle — 

"What?"  The  old  fellow  turned  about  on  me 
grasping  his  pipe. 

"Oh,  very  well!  Yes,  of  course  she  is  beautiful." 

He  relaxed  from  that  gorilla  ferocity.  "And 
iclever  ?" 

"Stupendously." 

"And  good?" 

"Ah,  Messieur  le  Baron !"  I  rolled  my  eyes,  posi 
tively  overcome.  Really,  I  was  getting  very  good 
at  this  sort  of  thing.  "Ah,  Baron!" 

"Ah,  Doctor !  You,  also,  are  getting  your  educa 
tion.  I  shall  make  of  you  the  man  I  was — at  forty. 
Voila!  the  way  I  could  talk  to  them!  You  should 
have  heard  me  and  a  pretty  woman.  Ah,  the  youth, 
I  lived — there  are  bits  of  it  yet  in  my  old  bones — to 
say  nothing  of  my  soul !" 

Back  he  sat  with  his  great  pipe  bowl  on  his  fat 
knee  and  chuckled.  "Allesjandro!  Play  the  music! 


HIS    LAST    MARQUISE  141 

You  know  what  when  I  am  feeling  so!  From  La 
Favorita,  or  one  of  the  old  ones !" 

And  when  he  heard  the  bars  of  that  infernal 
phonograph  of  his  squalling  its  diabolic  course,  he 
sighed:  "Eh,  well,  my  good  friend.  It  is  a  trifle 
out-at-the-heels,  my  gallant's  song,  but  think  of  the 
soul  trying  to  crawl  through  the  scratches." 

Mosquito  time  came  and  the  baron  had  to  retire 
under  his  bar,  but  still  the  bed  shook  with  his  keep 
ing  of  time  with  the  music.  The  bowl  of  his  pipe 
stuck  through  a  rent,  and  the  red  ember  glowed. 
I,  in  my  own  bunk,  watched  it  and  then  the  grinning 
Allesjandro  out  in  that  smoky  room  fighting  the 
mosquitoes  and  keeping  the  phonograph  at  its  oper 
atic  airs.  He  slapped  citronella  on  himself  and 
ground  the  squeaky  reel,  while  the  baron  muttered 
his  approval.  It  was  a  fine  slobber  of  sentiment  out 
of  which  the  baron  finally  roared  to  me :  "Ah,  tell 
me  now — could  we,  as  gentlemen,  allow  her  to  marry 
a  barber?" 

Messieur  le  Baron,  always,  after  the  fourth  glass 
of  his  wine,  reverted  to  the  original  grievance  that 
had  detained  him  at  Isle  Bonne.  At  the  fifth  he  had 
the  barber  down  and  the  point  of  his  rapier  on  his 
gullet;  and  at  the  sixth  the  man  was  hanged  and 
quartered;  at  the  seventh,  ah  I  will  not  relate! 


142  JOHN    THE    FOOL 

After  that  I  have  known  a  joust  with  the  barber  to 
break  down  the  baron's  bed ! 

After  a  while  Allesjandro  ceased  his  winding  of 
the  phonograph.  I  saw  him  stealing  away  in  his 
skiff  to  retire  on  his  lugger  that  lay  out  in  the  cove 
of  the  swamp.  There  was  a  full  moon,  and  from 
the  height  of  our  platform  above  the  forest  pool  I 
could  look  far  out  across  the  encircling  marshes  to 
where  the  light  lay  in  a  great  splash  of  yellow  on 
Barataria  Bay.  I  was  watching  it  when  a  stir  came. 
I  could  not  make  it  out  at  first. 

Then  it  became  a  soft  parting  of  the  thatch  across 
the  room  from  me  near  the  baron's  bed,  and  just 
at  the  level  of  the  floor. 

Silently  I  watched  that  scratching.  Then  a  whis 
per  came. 

"Monsieur?" 

"Mon  chere!" 

"Messieur  le  Doctor  is  quite  asleep?" 

"I  am  as  sure  as  I  am  of  your  beauty,"  breathed 
the  baron,  "that  I  heard  him  snore.  I  was  waiting 
for  you,  mademoiselle." 

"Ah,  if  we  were  only  rid  of  him — this  night  would 
be  like  the  other  beautiful  nights!  Ah,  messieur, 
we  could  talk  all  night !" 

"Hear  the  good  doctor  snore — or  is  it  an  insect  in 


HIS    LAST    MARQUISE  143 

the  palms  ?  He  sleeps  like  all  the  others.  Ah,  mon 
chere!"  He  reached  through  his  netting  and  was 
patting  her  head.  "After  all,  there  is  no  one  of 
them  all  like  me,  is  there  now  ?" 

"None  at  all,  messieur,  who  can  speak  like  you." 

He  gurgled  softly  and  I  knew  he  was  kissing  her 
fingers.  "Mademoiselle,  you  should  have  heard  me 
even  thirty  years  ago.  Alas,  my  dear!"  He  was 
getting  out  of  bed  with  many  a  sigh.  "I  knew  you 
would  come,  little  night  lark.  Never  would  you 
drowse  with  that  fool  of  a  grandfather  when  there 
is  a  moon  like  this." 

"The  dear  doctor — hear  him  snore." 

"Infamous !  If  he  were  the  man  I  was  at  his  age, 
even,  he  would  be  beating  out  the  woods  for  you,  he 
would  be  cudgeling  his  head  for  a  phrase  to  offer 
you.  Name  of  God — hear  the  man  snore!  Ro 
mance  is  dead  in  this  world,  my  Marquise,  ex 
cept  for  me.  But  I — I  tell  you  you  are  divine." 

"Merd,  Messieur  le  Baron." 

"Never  will  you  think  of  a  barber  again,  will 
you?" 

"Alas — poor  Antoine!  After  all  he  write  me  he 
is  not  much  of  a  barbeh,  and  so  can  he  come  back 
and  marry  me  ?" 

"I  will  chase  him  off  the  island  again.    Ah,  when 


144  JOHN    THE    FOOL 

we  leave  here,  my  Marquise,  you  shall  have  a  lover 
such  as  I  was — yet  not  quite." 

"Here  is  this  New  York  fel-lo,"  she  sighed.  "Only 
I'm  sure  he  has  a  lady  somewhere  nawth.  He  is 
sad  at  times.  And  the  good  doctor — ah,  me,  when 
shall  I  know  enough  to  be  a  credit  to  you,  messieur  ? 
I  really  don't  want  to  love  any  one — it  is  a  terrible 
bore  to  play  at  it." 

"Have  patience.  You  will  have  an  exquisite  re 
venge  on  all  of  them,  even  that  grim  ox,  Williams. 
You  can  snap  your  small  fingers  in  his  face — I  tell 
you  I  know  what  I  am  about." 

"The  wind,"  she  murmured  presently,  "is  south 
east — and  there  is  no  rain.  Messieur,  somehow,  I 
am  frightened  at  your  plan." 

"When  it  is  done  we  shall  shrug  our  shoulders; 
the  ways  of  God  and  the  course  of  the  wind  are  in 
scrutable." 

"Ah,  but — "  she  cried  suddenly,  and  as  if  in  pain, 
"I  do  not  wish  to  hurt  him — no,  no — not  that!  I 
am  afraid  of  him,  and  yet — and  yet — " 

"And  yet  what,  mademoiselle  ?" 

"There  is  a  mosquito  on  your  nose,  messieur," 
she  rejoined  absently,  and  I  heard  her  seedy  knight 
whack  himself  roundly  after  it. 


CHAPTER  IX 

A     BALL    AND    A    BETRAYAL 

THE  night  of  the  ball  we  reached  Isle  Bonne  late. 
There  had  been  some  trouble  with  the  motor, 
and  when  the  launch  at  length  drew  out  of  Virgil's 
canal  into  the  tidal  lakes  and  turned  westward  along 
the  thick  cane  shore  that  stretched  to  the  cheniere, 
the  moon  was  high  and  big,  and  the  south  wind 
brought  a  fancied  murmur  of  the  surges  beyond  the 
outlying  reefs. 

There  came  the  scraping  of  a  violin  somewhere 
from  the  shadows  beyond  Isle  Bonne's  shell  white 
shores ;  then  a  dim  light  on  Papa  Prosper's  gallerie, 
and  down  the  plank  wharf  the  guests  streamed  to 
meet  us.  On  the  beach  many  pirogues  were  drawn, 
in  the  offing  rode  half  a  dozen  luggers,  their  sails 
limp;  and  as  many  tubby  little  gas  boats  were 
grouped  about  the  wharf -head. 

And  many  were  the  soft  "bon  soirs"  and  shy 
greetings.  I  did  not  know  the  lonely  chenieres  held 
so  many  folk.  But  from  all  the  lakes  and  shrimp 

145 


i46  JOHN    THE    FOOL 

camps  and  swamp  bayous  they  had  come  to  Laure's 
party.  Our  wood  saint  was  all  gaiety  in  a  white 
gown — white,  indeed,  from  her  slipper  toes  to  the 
wild  blackberry  bloom  in  her  hair.  She  led  the 
procession  that  escorted  us  Yankee  fel-los  along 
the  shell  beach  to  the  old  sto'  and  introduced  us 
along  the  way.  There  was  Elodie,  the  daughter  of 
a  shrimp  captain  from  Bassa  Bassa;  and  Anastasie, 
from  Periac  Woods,  and  Antoinette  from  Grand 
Isle,  and  Felecie  and  Jeannie  from  lower  Barataria, 
and  Juanita  Du  Fong,  the  Chino-Spanish  girl  from 
the  Cavagnac  coast  of  whom  it  was  proudly  said  her 
uncle  was  in  the  penitentiary,  convicted  of  peonage 
in  his  shrimp  camp.  Oh,  many  the  girls  there  were 
at  our  ball,  and  shyly  they  looked  at  the  strangers 
from  among  their  brown-throated  brothers  and 
sweethearts  in  the  dim-lighted  hall.  On  the  gallerie 
up  rose  Papa  Prosper  with,  as  ever,  his  ancient  city 
newspaper  upside  down,  removing  his  cigarette  from 
his  loose,  gray-shaven  lip.  The  baron  was  there, 
and  Papa  bowed  with  pro  fund  courtesy  to  show 
Messieur  le  Baron,  one  time  of  the  Louisiana  Lot 
tery  Company  and  le  bon  Dieu  only  knew  where 
else,  how  a  Creole  gentleman  of  the  south  chenieres 
could  retain  the  graces  of  his  ancestors  at  vice 
regal  courts. 


A    BALL    AND    A    BETRAYAL       147 

"Ah,  messieurs,  five  weeks  now  I  have  sat  here 
to  await  you  to  call.  I  would  not  go  f eesh,  I  would 
not  go  crab,  I  would  not  go  f o'  nuttin' ;  f o'  I  says : 
'Prosper,  it  is  not  courteous  dat  you  go  fo'  work 
when  dem  gentlemen  may  call  some  time.'  Isle 
Bonne,  all  over,  she  await  you." 

"All  a-time  Papa  expect  somebody  to  call,"  put 
in  Laure.  "So  never  does  he  expect  to  go  to  work." 

We  assured  Papa  of  our  appreciation.  About  the 
old  sto'  skipped  small  boys  and  girls  shaving  tallow 
candles  to  make  the  boards  more  smooth.  On  the 
ancient  counter  of  Prosper's  defunct  store  sat  Sim, 
the  accordion  man  and  a  pimply  young  fiddler,  and 
now  they  began  a  crochety  waltz.  And  when  the 
silent  young  couples  were  off,  I  turned  to  see  the 
baron  keeping  time  with  his  pipe.  Vast  was  his 
delight;  broad  was  the  benignity  which  he  beamed 
forth  upon  Virgil  who  sat  against  the  gallerie  rail. 
About  us  swarmed  the  gentle  youngsters  fearing  to 
enter  the  ballroom  yet  filled  with  that  ecstasy  of 
Sim,  the  accordion  man,  and  the  little  fiddler.  Down 
each  side  of  the  hall  sat  the  shawled  swamp  mothers, 
their  nun-black  garb  setting  off  the  white  dresses  of 
the  dancers.  Every  one  danced  except  these — the 
lanky,  solemn-faced  fishers  and  wiry  hunters,  a  ro 
tund  little  sto'  clerk  from  La  Fourche;  even  Big 


148  JOHN    THE    FOOL 

Jim,  our  engineer,  secured  the  favor  of  the  Chino- 
Spanish  girl  and  towered  above  them  all  with  many 
a  wink  back  to  his  boss.  Virgil  declined  it  all. 

"Somehow,  it  doesn't  run  in  our  family,"  he  com 
mented.  "Most  balls  I  been  to  wound  up  in  a  shoot- 
in'  anyhow,  so  I  just  got  so  I  only  stick  around  and 
watch  fo'  which  fel-lo  opens  up  the  trouble.  But  I 
ain't  insinuatin'  anything,  Doctor.  These  cajun 
balls  ain't  that  way — unless  you  strike  one  at  the 
shrimp  camps  after  pay-day." 

His  eye  followed  the  merry-makers  with  a  humor 
of  condescension;  clearly  he  felt  a  superiority  to  the 
swamp  folk  who  in  turn  looked  upon  him  in  amiable 
but  shifty  evasion.  The  feud  of  Isle  Bonne  was 
known  to  them  all,  but  though  they  wondered  at 
our  presence  at  the  ball,  their  rare  native  courtesy 
kept  the  slightest  gossip  under  cover. 

Other  guests  were  arriving,  mainly  lean-hipped 
market  hunters  from  the  deep  swamp  who  beached 
their  pirogues  and  came  up  in  their  very  tight  trou 
sers  and  well-washed  denims.  Softly  they  greeted 
us,  and  bright-eyed  they  peered  within  the  hall.  To 
each  up  rose  Papa  Prosper  and  the  baron,  one  on 
either  side  of  the  door,  and  welcomed  them  with 
their  grandest  airs.  Neither  would  be  outdone;  if 
Messieur  le  Baron  bowed  twice,  Papa  bowed  thrice, 


A    BALL    AND    A    BETRAYAL        149 

and  being  as  lean  as  the  worthy  baron  was  fat,  he 
could  bow  just  twice  as  far  in  half  the  time. 

"Ah,  dis  life,"  sighed  Papa,  "too  many  balls, 
m'sieu,  it  would  be  bad  as  work.  Wan  time  when  I 
was  a  young  man  I  went  to  a  ball  at  La  Chcniere 
and  me — dat  tired  I  did  get.  I  say,  'Prosper,  neve' 
no  more  you  go  fo'  dis  fast  life.  It  is  best  fo'  you, 
Prosper,  dat  you  go  sit  on  you'  gallerie — mebbe  so, 
some  time  you  get  rich  lak  a  millionaire." 

Behind  his  pipe  the  baron  grunted  dissent  from 
this  pleasing  possibility.  "See  now  what  a  noble 
line  has  come  to,  Doctor,"  he  murmured  to  me. 
"Forty  years  he  has  sat  looking  off  his  gallerie,  and 
now  behind  him  the  Yankees  have  come — "  he  broke 
off  with  his  sly  old  wink.  "Ah,  well,  we  have  a  truce 
to-night,  have  we  not?"  He  flourished  his  pipe  at 
the  door.  "Had  I  two  good  legs  and  more  wind  in 
me !"  He  chucked  a  fat  little  girl  under  the  ear  as 
she  passed.  Then  he  pounded  the  floor  with  his  foot. 
"But  here  I  sit,  the  devil  take  it !  And  my  marquise, 
oh,  the  life  I  would  have  for  her!  Youth  was  never 
made  for  the  chimney  corners — let  it  roar  forth 
songs,  friendships,  loves — go  homeward  at  dawns 
and  sleep  off  the  price  it  pays.  Ah,  Doctor,  the  price 
is  high  but  worth  it — look  at  me  now?  Could  any 
thing  purchase  the  memories  I  have  ?" 


ISO  JOHN    THE    FOOL 

And  he  winked  a  Machiavellian  blessing  on  the 
waltzers,  rapping  out  the  time  with  his  pipe.  Papa 
Prosper  nodded:  "Ah,  dis  life!  We  people  of  the 
swamp,  m'sieu,  we  have  a  savin'  in  crevasse  time 
when  it  rain  and  the  water  all  about  our  platforms : 
'When  she  come  from  the  bottom  up  and  she  come 
from  the  top  down,  God  meant  us  to  be  wet.'  When 
a  young  man  be  with  a  girl  with  the  music  so,  and 
the  moonlight  across  Isle  Bonne  woods  so,  God 
meant  it  fo'  love." 

Wondrous  was  their  moonlight  and  the  south 
wind  from  their  sea!  I  watched  all  that  gentle 
youth  within  until  the  dingy  hall  fell  away  in  long 
vistas  over-arched  by  dreams — and  then  I  was  aware 
that  my  eyes  were  upon  Clell  and  Laure.  They  were 
swinging  slowly  in  the  soft  light ;  with  his  tall  fair 
ease,  looking  down  at  her  upturned  face,  and  she 
answering  him  with  that  air  of  distinction,  of  whim 
sical  appeal  and  caressing  which  she  could  use.  I 
became  aware  that  every  one  was  looking  at  them. 
One  dissatisfied  damsel,  brushing  by  me  with  her 
escort  to  the  cooler  gallerie,  voiced  it : 

"Laure  Drouillot,  all  a-time  she  dance  with  that 
Yankee  fel-lo.  Me — I  don't  care,  but  she  needn't 
talk  to  us  about  mannehs !" 

Virgil  was  watching  them  also.    I  saw  the  dumb 


wistfulness  of  the  man  who  had  given  his  youth 
to  fighting  years  and  had,  along  the  way,  forgotten 
something  that  might  have  made  them  fairer.  He 
did  not  dance;  he  declined  both  the  baron's  studied 
importunities  and  Laure's  jesting  glances. 

"That  a  man  should  want  to  think  of  digging 
ditches  when  he  might  dance,"  she  murmured,  with 
ever  so  faint  a  suggestion  of  hostile  fires;  and  tuck 
ed  away  in  a  corner  of  the  gallerie,  her  white  slip 
pers  clear  of  the  rough  floor,  I  heard  her  sigh  to  her 
young  Yankee  fel-lo,  who  seemed  to  be  the  next 
one:  "Ah,  of  you  I  can  not  believe  that,  M'sieu 
Clell."  She  looked  languidly  at  the  Texan  across 
the  gallerie.  "Sometime  I  do  not  believe  your  heart 
is  in  it — this  digging  up  of  our  isle." 

"When  I'm  here  with  you,"  Clell  answered,  "I 
can't  believe  it  myself." 

Virgil  heard  him.  To  tell  the  truth,  one  of  my 
reasons  for  getting  them  here  this  evening  was  to  see 
if  some  fortuitous  thing  would  not  bring  the  two 
out  of  their  implacability — it  was  getting  to  be 
ghastly  to  me.  I  had  an  impression  now  that  Laure 
was  guessing  at  it.  She  had  turned  intently  to  watch 
the  Texan,  measuring  him  as  he  sat  listening  to  old 
Prosper's  meanderings.  The  baron  was  behind 
them,  and  now  I  saw  him  signal  to  the  girl.  I  was 


152  JOHN    THE    FOOL 

sure  of  it,  a  smile,  a  beckon,  a  shrug  that  indicated 
Williams.  And  she  seemed  to  hesitate,  watching 
across  her  fan;  and  then,  at  a  more  decided  and 
silent  request  from  the  old  man,  she  slipped  down 
and  was  across  to  Virgil.  She  tapped  his  sleeve, 
with  a  smile.  He  turned,  startled  at  the  manifest 
invitation. 

"Ah,  if  you  won't  dance  with  Elodie  or  me,  come 
try  the  sherbet  anisette."  She  laughed  as  if  daring 
him  to  unbend,  to  be  one  of  them  and  with  her. 
"Won't  you,  now,  m'sieu?  Come — for  to-night,  a 
truce.  Come — on  the  other  gallerie,  where  the  sher 
bet  is.  And  there's  a  little  seat.  We  will  not  talk 
of  Isle  Bonne — only  nom  de  Dieu!  What  folly  to 
sue  us.  It  has  been  ours  since  the  days  of  the  vice 
roys  of  Spain." 

He  went  along  with  her  a  trifle  hesitant  now  at 
her  ardent  intent  to  please  him.  When  he  was 
seated,  she  found  a  perch  on  the  gallerie  rail,  and, 
nibbling  one  of  the  little  cakes  that  Juan  Rojas,  the 
head  villager  of  Isle  L'Ourse,  had  brought  from  the 
river  towns,  she  continued  her  arch  interest  as 
though,  at  last,  really  wanting  to  know  what  sort  of 
an  animal  it  was  burrowing  across  her  island. 

Virgil  seemed  to  be  wondering  and  yet  I  knew 
he  was  bewildered  by  the  closeness  of  her,  her  airs, 


A    BALL   AND   A    BETRAYAL       153 

at  once  barbaric  and  quaintly  of  an  exquisite  and 
vanished  breeding,  touched  with  the  pertness  of  to 
day.  F"or  she  could  show  all  of  these  at  times;  I 
was  more  astonished,  as  I  noted  her  evening's  trans 
formation.  She  wore  her  gown — the  simple  rich 
gown  of  the  Comtis  ball  imported  by  that  New  Or 
leans  aunt — with  an  odd  and  merry  nonchalance  in 
that  rough  room  in  an  endeavor  to  make  the  other 
girls  feel  at  ease. 

But  Virgil  seemed  directly  indifferent  to  her  chat 
ter.  Presently  he  faced  her  seriously. 

"I  been  wonderin'  why  you  brought  me  ove'  here 
to-night  ?" 

She  started;  her  eyes  had  been  on  the  wall  of 
forest  behind  the  house;  a  shimmer  of  moonlight 
fell  through  upon  the  pools,  but  it  seemed  to  take  the 
pink  of  dawn.  Within  the  wide  hall  the  droning 
waltzes  went  on;  there  were  no  other  dances,  and 
the  luckless  sto'  clerk  from  La  Fourche  who  tried 
to  dilate  upon  the  tango  to  the  islanders,  got  only 
wondering  stares.  The  floor  shook  with  the  waltz- 
ers'  movements;  but  out  here  in  the  cool  dark  the 
rough  edges  were  taken  from  the  festivities.  I  was 
all  but  asleep  with  the  peace  of  Laure's  isle;  one 
could  just  make  out  that  she  was  leaning  to  Virgil 
from  the 


154  JOHN    THE    FOOL 

"I  thought,  perhaps,  m'sieu,  as  we  are  such  ex 
cellent  enemies,  we  should  be  better  acquainted." 

"Ah,"  I  mused,  "so,  at  last  he  is  to  be  the  next 
one?  Well,  you  can  not  win  Virgil  from  his  own 
job — personal  and  specified." 

The  Texan  was  answering  calmly;  if  he  had  ever 
loved  the  girl,  he  held  himself  aloof  from  it  now. 
"Enemies  ?  I  hate  to  call  it  that.  Only,  I  neve'  had 
the  chance  to  be  anything  else — it  was  my  game, 
you  see." 

"And  mine,"  she  murmured,  "was  just  to  hate 
you,  so.  Only — one  wonders — one  can  not  have  ex 
actly  as  one  wishes,  after  all." 

"No."  She  might  have  known  how  vain  her  co 
quetry  was  from  his  voice;  perhaps  she  did.  At 
least  she  sighed,  and  drew  herself  up  to  a  small  heap 
in  the  corner.  He  went  on  steadily :  "One  of  these 
days  you  and  Papa  Prosper  will  be  sorry  you  didn't 
accept  the  forty  thousand  the  company  offered  you 
three  years  ago  fo'  a  quit-claim." 

"And  cut  up  our  island  ?" 

"Five  years  more,"  Virgil  retorted  irrelevantly, 
"this  timber  will  be  out  of  the  swamp  and  all  your 
prairie  will  be  raising  early  stuff  for  the  Chicago 
markets.  Isle  Bonne'll  be  the  first  good  to  the 
world  it  ever  was.  But  you — you  little  thing.  The 


A    BALL    AND    A    BETRAYAL       155 

world'll  be  a  pretty  rough  place  for  you  when  you 
have  to  get  out  in  it.  It  isn't  flowers  and  honey 
bees;  and  all  you  know  here  of  woods  and  wateh 
won't  be  any  manneh  of  use  to  you  then.  That's 
why  I'm  sorry." 

"You  are  sorry,  messieur?" 

"Yes." 

"Ah,  that  is  good!  My  little  saint  in  there  upon 
the  wall — some-a-time  I  ask  her  a  little  prayer  for 
to  change  your  heart."  I  heard  him  stir;  he  was 
not  used  to  that — to  women  and  the  softness  of  the 
night,  to  pretty  speeches  and  allurements.  Clell 
would  have  met  her  with  banter  or  with  a  sentiment 
of  her  own.  But  Virgil — well,  I  thought  of  Mary 
and  the  twelve  years  the  man  waited  for  her  stub 
bornly  before  he  gave  her  up.  If  there  was  love 
in  him,  it  was  like  the  strength  in  him,  wrought  of 
the  beaten  metal  of  defeat.  Laure  might  play  with 
him,  but  she  had  best  let  his  sleeping  soul  lie.  If 
it  slept! 

"You  little  thing !"  he  muttered  suddenly.  "They 
got  no  call  to  let  you  stay  in  all  this  foolishness. 
They  fill  you  with  dreams,  they  neve'  let  you  come 
face  to  face  with  things.  If  they  did  you 
wouldn't  fight  me  or  my  job  yondeh.  Things  would 
have  been  different." 


156  JOHN    THE    FOOL 

I  could  not  catch  her  low  answer.  I  wondered 
what  would  have  been  different  with  him  or  with 
her.  What  stubborn  triumph  had  he  planned? 

"Well,"  I  mused.  "Bother  them  all.  I  have  done 
my  duty  even  as  my  host  saw  it.  I  proposed  to  the 
minx — what  more  can  the  old  buzz-saw  of  a  baron 
desire  ?  As  for  the  rest  of  it,  thank  God,  I  am  forty- 
six.  Youth  is  a  manifest  disaster,  and  the  sooner 
done  the  better." 

I  opened  my  eyes  again  and  flicked  a  mosquito 
from  the  tip  of  my  ear.  They  were  talking  more 
softly;  and  within  the  store  the  droning  music  and 
the  shuffle  of  feet  went  on.  Out  in  the  moonlight 
offing  a  fisher  was  singing  on  his  lugger  and  his 
furnace  fire  of  charcoal  made  a  red  spot  in  the  night. 
Beyond  him  the  giant  gars  leaped  among  the  floating 
lilies,  and  beyond  that  was  the  starry  dusk.  But  my 
eyes  wandered  sleepily  to  the  left  where  was  the  im 
penetrable  cypress  jungle.  A  pink  bloom  was 
against  or  behind  it.  And  while  I  watched  this,  some 
one  came  along  the  gallerie  and  leaned  to  me.  It 
was  Clell,  and  he  motioned  to  the  forest. 

"The  marsh  is  burning.  Big  Jim  says  it  must  be 
beyond  the  canal,  and  the  wind  is  right  to  bring  it 
in.  Where's  Williams?" 

"There."   I  motioned  to  them.   But  Clell  did  not 


A    BALL    AND    A    BETRAYAL       157 

go  on.  Never  yet  had  he  directly  addressed  his  su 
perior  save  at  their  work,  and  then  coolly,  curtly, 
nothing  more  than  was  needed. 

"Tell  him,"  Clell  muttered,  "the  dynamite  boat 
is  in  the  main  ditch  not  thirty  yards  from  the  dredge 
— and  in  the  fire-line  as  that  wind  holds." 

Virgil  must  have  heard  him.  I  knew  his  chair 
had  dropped  swiftly.  He  was  on  his  feet  and  by 
us,  staring  about  the  end  of  the  gallerie  where  now 
the  south  was  a  glow  beyond  the  forest  wall. 

"Mangy  and  Al  are  asleep  in  the  quarter-boat, 
too."  He  lifted  a  hand  to  test  the  breeze.  "You 
cain't  tell  how  it's  blowin'  here."  He  turned  his 
quick  glance  in  the  hall.  And  there  I  saw  the  Baron 
de  Vedrinnes'  vast  bulk  in  the  door,  and  he  was 
smiling.  Virgil  shot  a  look  at  me.  Then  he  jumped 
nearer  with  clenched  hands. 

For  an  instant  I  thought  he  would  seize  the  old 
fellow  by  the  neck.  The  baron  was  bowing.  The 
play  was  obvious  enough  from  his  sardonic  airs. 
Williams  turned,  checking  his  words,  saw  Laure 
beyond  in  the  semi-darkness,  and  came  past  me  to 
her.  He  stopped  full  before  her  and  spoke  quietly. 

"You  asked  me  here  to-night,  you  showed  me  the 
first  real  kindness  in  all  the  years  I  been  here.  And 
I  see  now — I  see  why  you  had  me  sit  there" — he 


158  JOHN    THE    FOOL 

pointed  to  the  gallerie  corner — "my  back  to  the 
woods  and  the  prairie  beyond — the  prairie  dry  as 
tinder,  and  my  dredge  in  it." 

"M'sieu?"   She  was  looking  wonderingly  at  him. 

"You  knew  I  reckon,  that  there  are  two  men  sleep- 
in*  on  it,  and  four  tons  of  dynamite  and  black  pow 
der  in  the  ditch  near  'em  ?  Did  you  ?" 

The  baron  was  bowing  again  with  profound 
courtesy.  The  other  guests  were  straying  out  in 
wonderment.  The  music  had  ceased.  The  Texan 
fingered  his  white  hat  before  Laure  and  spoke  on 
quietly. 

"Killin'  two  men — you  didn't  think  of  that,  did 
you?" 

The  motor  on  the  launch  broke  out  to  whirring 
as  Big  Jim  got  the  boat  turned.  The  Texan  was 
moving  past  me,  when  Laure  came. 

"M'sieu,  you  did  not  think — you  can  not  think — " 

"I  know,"  he  answered.  "They  did  it — the  bar 
on's  niggers.  But  you — did  you  know  ?" 

She  did  not  answer.  The  baron  was  rubbing  his 
hands.  The  half  world  to  the  south  was  growing 
brighter.  The  Texan  looked  resolutely  at  her.  "Did 
you  ?  Say  no — and  I'll  believe  you." 

She  could  not.  She  fled  past  him  suddenly  to  the 
end  of  the  wharf;  she  was  reaching  her  hands  to 


A    BALL    AND    A    BETRAYAL       159 

Clell  in  the  launch,  when  Virgil  brushed  grimly  past 
her  into  it.  He  did  not  look  at  her  again. 

"Reclfield,  are  you  goin'  in  with  me — to  drag  that 
dynamite  away  from  the  machine.  There's  a  chance 
—just  one  chance." 

"Yes,"  Clell  retorted,  "I'm  going." 

They  crouched  low  in  the  boat  as  it  shot  out  and 
around  the  gleaming  shell  point  of  Isle  Bonne  to 
the  lake.  "Nine  miles,"  I  heard  the  boss  mutter, 
and  he  held  a  lantern  to  his  watch.  "Nine  miles,  and 
that  ditch  will  be  a  pit  of  fire  every  foot  from  the 
lake  boom." 

Then  they  disappeared;  and  I  stood  listening  to 
the  faint  beat  of  the  motor,  looking  at  the  red  sky 
beyond  the  cypress  wall.  The  swampers  on  Pros- 
per's  gallerie  were  listening  curiously.  In  the  splotch 
of  light  at  the  door  stood  the  baron. 

"Ah,  my  friends,"  he  said,  "it  is  not  yet  twelve — 
compose  yourselves.  The  gentlemen  have  gone,  but 
the  night  is  young." 

Laure  and  myself  were  left  on  the  end  of  the 
wharf.  "See  here,"  I  demanded.  "That  old  devil 
knew!  I  wondered  why  this  affair  was  got  up — 
and  we  were  asked.  If  that  dredge  burns,  Williams 
loses  his  contract — and  he's  done  for.  You  knew 
that!" 


160  JOHN    THE    FOOL 

She  clasped  her  hands.  "Why  did  you  let  them 
go !  They  can't  get  in — the  canal  is  filled  with  fire." 

"They  will  go  in — there  are  a  fireman  and  a  cook 
there.  And  the  dredge — did  you  think  Williams 
would  abandon  it?" 

"The  powder  boat — they  will  not  dare  approach !" 

"They  will.  And  look  here — you  never  thought 
of  that,  did  you!  If  they  are  killed — 

With  a  cry,  she  turned  and  ran  from  me.  And  I 
followed,  hating  her  as  nearly  as  I  had  hated  any 
one.  My  boy  was  there  flying  into  that  fire-filled 
ditch  with  death  at  the  farther  end.  He  would  not 
have  refused  Virgil  if  the  boss  had  asked  him  to 
step  into  hell — for  the  pride  of  the  man's  size  job. 
But  there  was  Mary,  I  was  thinking  of. 

I  found  the  girl  throwing  off  the  line  from  her 
cypress  canoe. 

"I  shall  go — I  can  be  there  before  them!"  she 
cried,  "through  the  swamp — will  you  go  with  me, 
messieur?" 

I  stepped  into  the  ticklish  thing.  With  a  draw 
of  her  paddle  swiftly  down  among  the  cypress  spikes 
she  shot  the  pirogue  on.  I  had  a  vision  of  Papa 
Prosper,  his  hands  up  in  horror,  gazing  after  us ;  and 
heard  a  shout  from  the  baron.  He  stood  in  the 
light,  waving  his  pipe  furiously.  When  the  pirogue 


A    BALL    AND    A    BETRAYAL        161 

slipped  from  the  first  dense  shadows  into  a  watery 
aisle  of  the  forest,  a  fleck  of  the  moonlight  fell  upon 
Laure's  face.  It  was  very  tense,  darkling  with  re- 
solves  and  rebellions. 

I  steadied  myself  and  watched  the  play  of  her 
lithe  strong  arms  as  she  swept  the  needle  of  wood 
onward  on  the  unfathomable  trail. 

"You  know  the  way,  mademoiselle?" 

She  laughed  hardly.  "Isle  Bonne — my  island? 
There  is  no  leaf  in  its  big  woods  is  not  my  little 
friend !" 

"Well,"  I  drew  out  my  pipe  and  lighted  it.  "You 
have  murdered  two  men  to-night — perhaps  four. 
What  does  the  little  saint  on  the  wall  back  there, 
in  your  pirate  isle,  think  of  that?" 

She  would  not  answer,  her  eyes  staring  now  at  the 
blood  red  of  the  horizon  where  we  caught  a  bit  of 
it  down  a  space  of  the  flooded  forest. 


CHAPTER  X 

A  GOWN AND  DYNAMITE 

LAURE  found  her  way  across  the  three  miles  of 
cypress  to  the  floating  prairie,  with  me  facing 
her  in  the  bow  of  her  tiny  dugout — by  what  miracle 
of  wood-sense  I  do  not  know.  About  immense 
windfalls  of  down  timber  where  we  lifted  the  dead 
limbs  and  the  tangle  of  bamboo  brier  to  slip  under, 
between  huge,  rotted  stumps  festooned  with  great 
ferns,  pushing  through  the  myriad-spiked  areas 
about  the  buttresses  of  the  standing  cypress — some 
how  she  found  a  trail  through  pool  and  water  aisle, 
and  as  we  neared  the  burning  prairie,  the  gloom 
under  the  moss  canopy  became  the  pink  of  a  fur 
nace,  a  living  curtain  palpitant  with  the  twisting, 
changing  sheen  of  the  embers. 

We  saw  now  the  caney  spaces  between  spurs  of 
the  dead  forest,  and  the  sloughs  shining  red.  And 
outlined  against  the  line  of  fire  was  Virgil's  dredge, 
its  huge  crane  lifted,  the  black  bulk  of  the  house  and 
the  windows  under  the  smoke  billows.  Then  the 
trees  hid  it.  But  the  girl  turned  to  me  sharply. 

162 


A    GOWN— AND    DYNAMITE         163 

"You  lied  to  frighten  me.  There  are  no  men 
there!" 

"Where  could  they  go  ?"  I  retorted.  "They  could 
not  cross  the  floating  prairie.  They  must  be — and 
Williams  will  find  them — the  launch  is  in  that  canal 
now  coming  with  the  wind  and  fire.  And  they  have 
to  pass  the  dynamite  boat  to  reach  them." 

"They  can't !"  she  answered.    "It  is  too  late." 

"They  will." 

She  bit  her  finger-tips  with  a  fury  or  remorse,  I 
could  not  tell  which.  "They  did  not  tell  me — they 
did  not  tell  me !"  she  whispered. 

"Who  did  not — and  tell  you  what  ?" 

But  she  merely  muttered,  and  stared  down  the 
shining  line  of  Virgil's  canal  of  which  we  could 
catch  a  glimpse.  For  a  mile  from  a  near  turn  it 
was  a  slit  of  a  mirror,  ruffled  along  one  margin  by 
the  breeze,  but  the  far  end  was  lost  in  a  lurid  cur 
tain.  Out  of  that  they  would  have  to  come  in  the 
launch — if  they  ever  got  that  far  in  from  the  lake 
end  of  the  ditcK. 

"And  they  will,"  I  retorted  again.  "Nothing  will 
stop  them." 

"See  there,"  she  cried.  "The  dynamite  boat — 
it's  two  hundred  yards  from  the  dredge.  Oh,  if  the 
fire  would  reach  it  now — before  they  appear.  Mes- 


164  JOHN    THE    FOOL 

sieur  Doctor,  if  we  could  explode  it — they  would 
be  safe." 

"Yes,  but—" 

She  had  swerved  the  canoe  sharply  about  and  was 
among  the  fantastic  trees  in  that  red  and  unearthly 
gloom.  So  silently,  with  impetuous  passion,  she 
worked  that  I  did  not  comprehend  what  she  was  do 
ing  until  the  pirogue  swept  out  in  a  glade,  margined 
with  tall  saw-grass  at  the  edge  of  the  forest;  and 
then  I  saw  something  that  made  me  forget  her  in 
my  astonishment. 

The  pirogue  was  grounding  in  one  of  the  low 
hard  ridges  of  shells  that  ran  so  mysteriously 
through  the  swamps.  And  from  this  ridge  some 
thing  sheered  up  before  me;  I  put  my  hand  to  it — 
upon  dry,  rotted  planking,  a  chain,  a  rusted  stay. 
It  was  the  broken  stem  of  a  schooner! 

The  girl  was  out  and  flying  along  the  ridge.  Then 
I  saw  a  dying  fire  before  which  stood  a  negro,  and 
beyond  him  apparently  a  rough  stockade  built  out 
over  the  water  and  seemingly  over  the  midship  sec 
tion  of  the  sunken  vessel.  Above  this  stockade  was 
a  rude  derrick.  On  the  top  of  this  sat  another  negro 
who  was  looking  down  with  amazement  to  made 
moiselle.  She  was  speaking  to  them  sharply.  They 
turned  to  look  at  me  and  I  saw  the  stupefied  fear 


A    GOWN— AND    DYNAMITE         165 

on  their  broad  shining  faces.  One  was  Hogjaw,  the 
renegade  fireman  from  the  dredge;  and  there  was 
menace  in  his  recognition  of  me. 

Slowly  I  was  grasping  the  meaning  of  the  stock 
ade  of  slabs.  It  was  a  rough  caisson  built  over  the 
sunken  cabin  of  that  rotted  schooner;  planks  and 
timbers  driven  down  on  either  side  of  her  gunwale 
and  across  her  beam.  In  some  manner  and  at  some 
high  tide  she  had  been  beached  here,  her  prow  high 
over  the  shell  ridge,  her  stern  beneath  the  black 
waters  of  the  glade. 

And  the  midnight  workers  were  trying  to  pump 
the  water  from  her  midsection;  that  was  the  mean 
ing  of  the  caisson  and  the  rude  derrick  that  sup 
ported  the  rusty  length  of  pump.  I  jumped  on  the 
edge  of  the  stockade  and  looked  over  the  red  pools 
and  runways  to  the  marsh.  Now,  I  knew.  A  mile 
away  was  Williams'  dredge  and  another  round  of 
cutting  through  the  marsh  would  bring  it  almost 
upon  the  secret  workers  at  the  wrecked  ancient 
schooner.  And  a  phrase  of  Laure's  came  back  to  me 
from  her  night  conference  with  the  baron : 

"The  dredge  must  not  go  a  mile  farther — there 
is  danger!" 

Danger  to  what  ? 

I  had  no  chance  to  ask  her.     She  was  back  upon 


166  JOHN    THE    FOOL 

me  suspiciously,  seeing  me  peering  over  the  stock 
ade.  Now  she  carried  a  rifle  and  slid  it  under  the 
thwarts  of  her  pirogue.  "Come — come,"  she  cried : 
"I  have  a  plan  for  them — those  fools  who  will  rush 
into  death !" 

"What  is  this  here?"  I  demanded. 

"Never  mind,  messieur."  She  flashed  an  imperi 
ous  glance  on  me :  "I  told  you  long  ago  some  things 
— I  suppose  you  will  learn  more.  But,  now — " 

She  swept  her  craft  out  in  the  pool.  The  burning 
grass  was  showering  down  about  us;  the  heavens 
were  a  flame  from  the  far  sea  margins  to  the  zenith. 
When  we  were  a  hundred  yards  out  in  the  marsh, 
the  light  was  as  from  a  world  on  fire.  Isle  Bonne 
woods  were  a  black  patch  with  far  points  of  flame 
reaching  on  either  side  of  us. 

Laure  brushed  her  hair  back.  I  offered  to  assist 
her  and  got  in  return,  her  open  contempt. 

"Help?  What  can  you  do?  Can  you  paddle  a 
pirogue?  You — you  can  hardly  balance  yourself  in 
it.  Sit  still!" 

"You  might  tell  me  what  wild  scheme  this  is. 
Mademoiselle,  you  are  steering  us  into  certain 
death." 

"Well,  then,"  she  said  passionately,  "go  back — • 
you  can  swim  and  crawl  to  the  chcniere — and  hide 


A    GOWN— AND    DYNAMITE         167 

in  the  timber  if  you  desire.  It  will  not  burn — only 
the  cane  will  burn  over  the  flotteau" 

"You  can  not  scorn  me  like  that,  mademoiselle. 
You  know  I  won't  leave  you  to  go  alone.  Only, 
what  are  you  going  to  do — what  help  for  those  men 
whom  you  and  the  baron  got  into  this  trap?" 

She  shrugged.  "You  have  no  proof  of  anything." 

"You  are  trying  to  prevent  us  from  finding  out 
why  you  are  digging  into  that  old  wreck.  That  is 
the  main  reason  why  you  are  trying  to  delay  the 
dredge — that  and  to  make  Williams  lose  his  con 
tract." 

"Yes?  Suppose  that  wreck  is  mine?  Suppose  it 
was  my  Great-uncle  Armand's  schooner,  and  was 
driven  in  here  by  the  hurricane?  Do  you  remem 
ber  Last  Island,  messieur,  and  1854?" 

I  did,  and  I  told  her  so  tartly.  I  added  that  Ar- 
mand  was  a  slave-runner  and  a  smuggler,  and  some 
other  of  her  older  family  history  that  all  the  south 
coast  people  knew.  Then  she  laughed  impatiently, 
a  trifle  wildly:  "Non  de  Dieu!  Who  cares?  What 
do  a  few  pirates  in  one's  family  matter?  Be  still — 
am  I  not  stricken  enough,  to-night  ?  Messieur,  only 
last  week  you  said  you  loved  me !" 

"Exactly — and  I  didn't  mean  a  word  of  it."  She 
stopped  paddling  and  looked  at  me  dangerously. 


i68  JOHN    THE    FOOL 

That  unearthly  light  made  her  a  red  and  gold  girl 
with  a  mute  hard  face,  a  medallion  from  a  fiery 
cast — hot  but  passionless ;  something  that  could  sting 
and  feel  not. 

Then  she  swept  the  sliver  of  wood  on  through 
the  narrow  channel  of  the  cane.  "Messieur,  I  know 
a  deal  more  than  you  think  I  do — I  did  not  need 
your  love-making  for  my  education." 

"That  is  the  joke  of  it,"  I  retorted.  "And  any 
how,  making  love  to  you  would  bore  me  desperately. 
Throwing  ducks  and  burning  dredges  are  not  ex 
actly  the  manners  I  would  desire." 

Then  she  laughed  again,  and  plunged  her  young 
strength  against  the  paddle  blade.  "Yankees  so 
amuse  one,"  she  murmured,  and  her  glance  went 
now  at  the  mirrored  channel  and  now  at  my  face. 
"And  they  are  so  helpless!  Here  is  my  rifle — 
could  you  hit  a  post-card  with  it  at  one  hundred 
yards?" 

"Not  a  bit — and  what  is  excellent,  I  do  not  have 
to." 

She  was  watching  the  domes  of  smoke  cloud  at 
the  zenith.  The  fire-line  was  not  a  mile  distant 
now.  Presently  the  crooked  shallow  run  of  the 
marsh  we  were  following  opened  to  a  reedy  lakelet 


"Yankees  so  amuse  one,"  she  murmured 


A   GOWN— AND   DYNAMITE        169 

and  out  of  this  we  came  to  a  slough  across  which 
I  saw  the  dredge  again. 

"See  there,"  I  cried,  and  pointed  out  the  figures 
of  two  men  on  it. 

She  nodded.  And  then  she  cried  out  in  a  new 
fear.  We  had  come  out  into  the  dug  channel  now, 
and  far  down  its  shining  length  to  the  east  we  saw 
the  launch  against  the  fire-line.  It  had  come 
through,  by  some  miracle,  and  was  sweeping  on  to 
us.  Laure  steadied  her  boat  a  moment.  The  dredge 
was  not  a  quarter  of  a  mile  in  the  other  direction. 
And  all  along  the  farther  margin  of  the  ditch  the 
fire  was  running.  Only  the  line  of  dredged  mud 
held  its  intolerable  heat  from  us.  Down  the  canal 
it  had  leaped  the  water  in  half  a  dozen  places  and 
was  racing  along  both  banks.  When  it  reached  us 
— well,  I  felt  of  the  water.  It  was  warm  under  the 
reflected  heat. 

I  pointed  toward  the  dredge.  "The  dynamite,"  I 
muttered.  "You  see,  mademoiselle?" 

"I  see.  The  fire  is  to  it — the  moorings  are  burn 
ing.  It  will  drift  out  and  down  toward  those  men 
on  the  dredge — " 

"Not  if  Williams  can  reach  it  first!" 

She  glanced  at  the  launch  not  a  half-mile  distant. 


i  ;o  JOHN   THE   FOOL 

"He  will  never  reach  it,  messieur.  None  of  those 
madmen.  Nor  will  it  reach  the  dredge."  She  had 
grounded  the  pirogue  on  the  canal  side  across  from 
the  fire  and  was  out  among  the  great  clods.  I  stag 
gered  out  and  to  her  side.  The  sweep  of  the  hot 
wind  was  intolerable;  the  first  draw  of  it  down  my 
lungs  made  me  reel.  I  saw  Laure  muffle  her  mouth 
and  nose  in  the  hollow  of  her  elbow.  But  she  stum 
bled  on  down  the  embankment,  dragging  the  rifle 
after  her. 

"Laure!"  I  shouted,  "come  back — what  are  you 
doing?" 

She  was  measuring  the  distance  intently  to  the 
square-ended  scow  under  whose  corrugated  roof 
was  stored  the  dynamite.  I  stared  at  her  and  then 
the  launch  that  was  speeding  on  to  pass  us.  Sud 
denly  she  turned  to  me  and  cried  out. 

"In  which  end  of  the  hold  is  the  black  powder!" 

"It  is  forward — in  cannisters  of  tin,  I  think.  The 
dynamite  is  boxed." 

And  before  the  words  left  me  she  had  fired  the 
automatic  rifle  deliberately  into  the  scow  side.  It 
was  a  good  two  hundred  yards  away  but  drifting 
out  now  plainly  in  the  blazing  margin  of  the  canal. 
The  dredge  beyond  it  was  hidden  in  the  billowing 
smoke.  And  again  the  girl  fired — again  and  again. 


A    GOWN— AND    DYNAMITE        171 

I  could  not  hear  the  reports  in  the  roar  of  the  fire 
across  from  us.  It  was  searing  my  face,  and  my 
clothes  were  blazing.  Laure  fired  again  at  the  dyna 
mite  scow.  I  heard  her  mutter  despairingly.  She 
could  not  locate  the  black  powder  cans  with  her 
steel- jacketed  bullets — and  each  instant  Virgil's 
launch  was  sweeping  on  to  pass  us,  to  plunge  on  into 
the  fiery  pass  to  rescue  his  imprisoned  men.  She 
saw  the  launch  now  almost  abreast  of  us.  And  they 
saw  us ;  I  caught  dell's  blackened  face  aghast,  star 
ing  at  the  sight  of  us  on  the  levee  line.  And  while 
I  was  motioning  to  him,  to  Virgil  who  was  crouched 
over  his  steering  wheel,  the  earth  went  out  from  un 
der  my  feet,  the  sky  collapsed. 

I  came  to  my  senses  slowly,  knowing  only  that  I 
was  trying  to  lift  my  face  out  of  the  black  mud; 
that  over  and  past  me  a  swift  surge  of  water  had 
come;  and  then  that  Laure  was  pounding  at  my 
back,  crying  for  me  to  rise  up.  For  a  moment  I 
could  not  get  the  stuff  from  my  eyes;  then  I  saw  a 
dark  world  about  us,  shot  with  falling  sparks  and 
beyond  this  an  outer  space  of  fire.  Men  were  stum 
bling  up  the  wrecked  levee.  In  places  it  had  been 
blown  sheer  with  the  grass  line.  The  fire  was  out 
for  hundreds  of  yards  about  us,  the  marsh  was  a 
black  carpet  with  winking  flecks  of  fire.  I  knew 


172  JOHN   THE   FOOL 

now  that  Clell  was  trying  to  help  me  to  my  feet; 
that  Big  Jim  had  lifted  Laure  who,  it  seemed,  had 
now  fallen  insensible. 

Virgil  stood  on  the  highest  point  of  his  wrecked 
embankment  staring  down  the  canal.  Presently, 
among  the  dense  bursts  of  smoke  from  the  black 
plain  I  saw  an  outline  of  his  dredge.  That  was 
what  he  was  looking  for  apparently.  Merely  that, 
for  he  turned  to  us  quietly,  with  a  sigh. 

"Blew  that  fire  out  for  a  hundred  yards  beyond 
it,"  he  murmured.  "Yes,  seh!  The  only  spot  in  ten 
square  miles  that  didn't  go."  Then  he  looked  at  the 
far  woods  of  the  black  island.  "And  you  came 
through  there,  Doctor  Dick — with  her?" 

I  tried  to  speak  but  the  breath  was  blown  from 
me.  The  Texan  had  knelt  to  feel  of  her  cheek. 
Then  he  lifted  her  and  strode  down  to  the  launch 
that  had  been  smashed  into  the  canal  bank  by  the 
tidal  wave  from  that  dynamite.  Slowly  he  trickled 
a  bit  of  the  warm  water  on  her  brow;  then  wiped 
it  away  with  his  sleeve. 

"I'm  a  son-of-a-gun,"  he  murmured  again  gently, 
"she  did  the  only  thing  that  could  have  saved  the 
dredge." 

"She  did  it,"  I  muttered,  "to  save  you.  Damn 
your  dredge !" 


'A   GOWN— AND    DYNAMITE         173 

The  girl  was  writhing  on  the  levee  side  and 
muttering  in  her  patois  of  the  swamps.  Clell 
squeezed  more  dirty  water  from  his  handkerchief 
so  that  it  fell  upon  her  temples,  and  upon  her  gown 
of  the  Comus  ball,  that  one  link  of  the  world  to  her 
wild  island.  After  a  while  she  gasped,  breathed 
slower  and  then  Clell  raised  her  gently  so  that  she 
sat  and  stared  about  her.  Big  Jim,  sitting  on  the 
gunwale  of  the  overturned  launch,  looked  her  over 
casually.  Virgil,  his  arms  crossed,  seemed  to  speak 
out  of  a  great  content  at  length. 

"I  asked  you  to  deny  you  knew  of  it,"  he  said, 
"and  you  couldn't.  You  tricked  me.  I  cain't  f o'get 
that — but  I  can  fo'get  you.  And  I  will." 

He  turned  aside  to  look  at  the  motor-boat,  and 
then  beyond  to  the  flecks  of  fire  about  his  loved 
monster.  We  heard  Mangy  hallooing  in  scared 
fashion  from  some  hiding-place.  The  Texan  spoke 
again  impersonally  as  if  to  us  all. 

"I  don't  fight  that  way.    I  don't  hit  from  behind." 

I  saw  Laure's  face  whiten  beneath  his  slow  scorn. 
Suddenly  I  was  seized  with  an  unreasoning  anger 
at  Virgil  and  his  affairs,  whether  they  involved  my 
own  ruin  or  not.  I  shook  my  fist  wildly  at  them  all. 

"Hit  from  behind?  Why  she  just  saved  you — 
saved  all  of  you,  your  lives  and  fortunes — with  the 


174  JOHN   THE   FOOL 

crack  of  that  gun!  And  there's  not  a  man  of  you 
could  have  crossed  the  swamp  and  done  it!  Not 
one!" 

I  glared  at  the  three  men,  black  and  tattered  as 
they  were.  The  Texan  watched  me  and  his  old  se 
rene  smile  came  again.  He  moved  nearer  to  the  girl 
who  was  sitting  up  bewilderedly  in  the  saw-grass 
and  staring  at  the  lurid  sky-line.  "Well,  then — fo' 
that,  I  thank  you.  Just  that." 

She  held  her  heavy  hair  back  from  her  brow 
which  must  have  been  aching  as  badly  as  my  own 
from  the  concussion  of  that  dynamite. 

"I  did  not  desire  you  to  die,  m'sieu,"  she  mut 
tered  slowly.  "As  for  the  rest  I  shall  not  answer.  I 
answer  nothing.  I  hate  you  again!" 

"I  beat  you,"  he  replied  quietly.  "I  expaict  I  did 
— you  little  thing — as  if  matters  weren't  hard 
enough  without  fightin'  you."  He  looked  again  with 
a  mighty  pride  at  his  black  squat  machine.  "But  I 
can  do  that,  too — personal  and  specified." 

He  went  on  back  to  where  Clell  and  Big  Jim 
had  gone  to  inspect  what  damage  the  twenty  thou 
sand  dollar  dredge  might  have  incurred  from  the 
'dynamite.  I  was  left  alone  with  Laure  on  the  levee 
side  in  the  unearthly  glare  of  the  far  fire'S  on  th"e 
marsh  and  against  the  fringe  of  the  dying  forest. 


A    GOWN— AND    DYNAMITE         175 

I  became  aware  that  she  was  weeping  now,  silent 
ly  and  alone,  a  prisoner  on  the  Texan's  line  of 
earth. 

"Please,  please,  child,"  I  began.  "It's  not  so  bad 
as  that — bad  enough  for  tears." 

"Yes,  it  is!"  she  cried,  and  sobbed  again.  "Look 
— look — my  little  gown!  My  Paris  gown  of  the 
Comus  ball.  The  Carnival  King  complimented 
me — he  said  it  was  pretty — my  little  gown!" 

I  had  to  let  her  cry  it  out. 


CHAPTER  XI 

THE   HATE  OF   MEN 

AT  sunrise  after  a  wretched  few  hours  while  the 
men  dragged  the  swamped  launch  from  the 
canal,  bailed  and  righted  it,  and  had  begun  to  take 
an  inventory  of  the  damage  done,  I  came  upon  Vir 
gil  silently  looking  at  the  corrugated  iron  roof  of  his 
dredge.  A  six-foot  length  of  the  stern  post  of  the 
dynamite  scow  had  hurtled  down  through  the  iron 
and  smashed  a  steam-pipe  on  the  boilers,  and  an 
other  piece  of  debris  had  neatly  clipped  a  section 
of  the  rim  from  a  gear  wheel  that  operated  his  two- 
yard  "clam-shell"  bucket. 

The  boss  looked  at  his  watch  thoughtfully.  "Two 
weeks,"  he  mused,  "that's  what  the  pawty  cost  me." 
He  looked  down  the  shining  length  of  his  canal, 
and  then  forward  at  the  pathless  waste  of  saw- 
grass  and  tidal  pools  yet  to  be  traversed  to  save  his 
option  on  the  lands  beyond  Isle  Bonne.  "I'm  going 
to  beat  it  out  front  to-day  and  get  the  new  fittin's  in 
N'Awlyns.  Two  weeks  gone  out  of  our  sixteen, 
Doctor  Dick.  Coin'  to  be  close  work." 

176 


THE    HATE    OF   MEN  177 

He  was  silent  again,  calculating  his  precious  time 
and  resources,  without  thought  of  our  bruises  or  his 
own.  The  far  margins  of  the  salt  prairie  were 
smoking  yet,  little  wisps  of  brown  trailing  up 
through  the  hot  morning  stillness.  The  woods  of 
the  chcniere  to  the  north  showed  no  sign  of  life.  I 
was  minded  to  tell  him  of  what  I  had  discovered, 
the  camp  of  the  black  renegades  about  the  mysteri 
ous  wreck  in  the  edge  of  the  forest,  and  then,  some 
how,  Laure's  mute  white  face  as  she  sat  under  the 
awning  of  the  launch  withheld  me.  Her  eyes  had 
appealed  to  me,  I  knew;  and  I  kept  a  treasonable 
silence. 

She  had  spoken  but  once  and  that  was  when  the 
others  were  on  the  dredge  looking  over  the  damage. 

"Am  I  a  prisoner  here  ?"  she  said  faintly.  "What 
will  he  do?  What  does  he  think?" 

"He  thinks  you  tried  to  ruin  him;  he  thinks  you 
even  would  do  it  unfairly — and  that  is  what  hurts 
him  horribly." 

"Hurts  him?"  She  started.  "Why,  that?  It  is  I 
who  suffer !" 

"You  would  not  deny  that  you  were  in  this  plot 
to  burn  him  out." 

"Ah,  no — I  did  not  know  that  there  were  men 
in  danger!" 


178  JOHN   THE    FOOL 

"But  his  machine — everything  he  has  staked  his 
work — his  pledge  and  honor  on — you  were  willing 
to  wreck  it." 

"Ah,  as  to  that,  he  and  his  machine  have  not  re 
garded  me — they  have  gone  on  brutally  for  a  year, 
without  waiting  for  the  law,  so  sure  he  was  of  beat 
ing  me." 

"Yes — he  is  quite  sure.  And  I — I  am  a  director 
in  his  corporation,  mademoiselle." 

She  was  staring  at  me  in  fear.  "I  did  not  know 
that.  Messieur  le  Baron  said:  'Ah,  the  doctor,  he 
is  a  gentleman,  a  man  of  feeling  and  of  sympathy. 
His  heart  is  not  with  the  mud-diggers !' ' 

"Ah,  but  my  money  is!  And  in  this  world,  my 
dear,"  I  sighed;  I  was  sick  of  the  affair.  "Well,  you 
had  better  not  trifle  with  this  man  from  Texas — in 
the  end  he  will  win." 

She  lifted  herself  higher  on  the  seat  to  look  at 
him  upon  his  black  leviathan:  "He  frightens  me! 
That  is  why  I — I — pretend !" 

"To  what?"  I  retorted,  and  she  was  pale  and  still. 
Then  she  went  on  subduedly :  "You  will  not  tell  him 
what  you  saw  last  night.  Listen,  dear  Doctor:  it 
was  absolutely  necessary  that  he  should  not  discover 
the  wreck  of  that  ship.  And  if  his  dredge  went  a 


THE    HATE    OF    MEN  179 

mile  beyond,  they  certainly  would  discover  it  be 
fore  we — we  are  done." 

"Why  are  you  digging  out  your  grand-uncle's  old 
slaver — what  has  that  to  do  with  it  all?" 

"It  is  the  baron,"  she  murmured.  "He  is  a  man 
of  ideas,  but  he  laughs  and  will  not  tell  me  all." 

"He  is  a  proper  lord  for  John-the-Fool,"  I  said. 
"I  don't  believe  Virgil  would  bother  about  his  dig 
ging,  if  that  was  all." 

"It  is  not  all,"  she  cried.  And  then  stared  at  her 
enemy  who  was  coming  along  the  embankment  with 
his  grimy  engineer.  Williams  looked  down  upon 
her,  small,  resigned,  trapped,  but  hostile;  her  eyes 
upon  him  now  defiantly,  as  if  challenging  him  to  do 
his  will ;  she  would  not  beg  a  truce  of  him,  or  a  fa 
vor,  even  so  much  as  a  glass  of  water  in  her  deathly 
illness  from  the  shock  of  his  dynamite.  It  was  Clell 
who  ministered  to  her,  brought  her  coffee  after 
Mangy,  our  scared  cook,  had  been  retrieved  from 
the  marsh  where  he  and  the  colored  roustabout  of 
the  dredge  had  taken  refuge.  From  the  first  Virgil 
had  been  absorbed  in  his  machine ;  even  now  he  dis 
missed  her  laconically. 

"Take  her  around  to  Prosper's,"  he  said  to  Big 
Jim;  "say  to  the  baron  it  was  a  fine  pawty,  thank 


180  JOHN    THE    FOOL 

you.  Give  him  our  compliments,  and  say  that  any 
one  of  his  niggers  who  sticks  his  head  out  of  the 
grass  within  fou'  hundred  yards  of  our  ditch  is  a 
dead  nigger.  We  work  with  side-arms  afteh  this." 
Then  he  turned  to  Laure  in  her  draggled  gown  that 
had  seen  the  ball  of  Comus.  "You  see  we're  diggin' 
the  ditch.  We  cain't  stop  to  go  man-huntin'  in  the 
deep  swamp — othe'wise  we'd  be  some  mean  to  you' 
people.  You  go  now — I  know  now  what  to  ex- 
paict." 

And  his  smile  suddenly  came,  the  old  serene,  self- 
assuring  smile.  "You  see,  I'm  that  kind  of  fel-lo — I 
fight  fair.  When  I  win,  then  I'll  come  to  you  and 
tell  you  what  it  means  to  me." 

He  sent  her  away  with  a  brief  order  to  the  en- 
gineman  to  return  at  once  for  the  trip  to  the  city 
seventy-five  miles  to  the  north.  She  went  stonily, 
without  appeal  or  evasion;  he  could  think  what  he 
pleased  of  her.  Clell  and  I  watched  the  issue  in  si 
lence.  The  white  launch  sped  back  through  the 
blackened  prairie ;  and  the  boss  turned  into  his  hot, 
steamy  engine-room  to  nurse,  with  the  solicitude  of 
a  father,  his  loved  and  wounded  beast  of  a  machine. 

I  had  an  acute  sense  of  outrage  suddenly  at  him 
and  the  whole  dogged  business.  Clell  had  stood 


THE    HATE    OF    MEN  181 

silently  by  under  the  boss'  peremptoriness,  grimly 
watching  the  other.  It  was  as  if  they  had  waited 
for  something,  each  in  the  other,  that  could  be  in 
terpreted  as  weakness. 

"She  saved  your  life,"  I  burst  out  hotly,  "and  for 
it  got  not  even  thanks!" 

The  Texan  looked  up  from  his  broken  gear. 
"Which?"  And  his  eyes  rested  a  moment  on  the 
other  man. 

"If  you  had  seen  her  last  night,  fighting,  crying 
her  way  through  Isle  Bonne  swamps  to  get  here 
first — to  take  her  chance  of  destroying  the  dynamite 
scow  before  you  had  the  madness  to  touch  it — you 
would  have  known.  And  the  way  she  stood  up  and 
clipped  that  stuff  with  bullet  after  bullet,  taking  her 
chance  with  the  explosion,  to  save  you — 

"I  reckon  it  will  do  her  good  to  think  it  oveh." 

"You  treated  her  infamously." 

His  smile  came  again.  "All  right.  I'm  playin'  my 
game !" 

The  younger  man  listened;  in  his  face  of  late  had 
come  something  of  the  master's  hardness,  the  brown 
clear  skin  lined  deeper  with  what  I  had  thought  dis 
dain,  but  now  I  wondered  if  it  were  not  a  joy  of  bat 
tle  something  like  Virgil's  own.  Incessantly  they 


1 82  JOHN    THE    FOOL 

had  watched,  yet  evaded  each  other;  the  place  was 
an  armed  camp,  but  I,  the  onlooker,  found  it  in 
tolerable. 

I  got  up  and  paced  the  floor.  "The  devil  with 
you — both!  I  wish  I  had  gone  to  Europe.  I  wish 
I  had  never  volunteered  for  this,  even  for  Mary. 
I  wrote  her  so.  I  wash  my  hands  of  the  affair — it 
is  insufferable  for  a  man  of  feeling  and  refinement. 
What  do  you  fellows  mean !" 

They  looked  at  me,  and  then  at  each  other  si 
lently.  The  Texan  arose  and  wiped  the  engine  oil 
from  his  hands.  Neither  would  answer. 

"If  this  is  all  it  comes  to,  you  have  failed,"  I 
went  on.  "You  have  made  an  abomination — a  thing 
that  will  make  your  souls  hateful." 

My  bronzed  young  friend  looked  clearly  at  me. 
And  still  he  would  not  speak. 

"I  expaict  my  soul  is  mine,"  the  Texan  put  in 
dryly,  "and  his  is  his."  Then  he  turned  his  steady 
eyes  upon  the  younger  man.  "I  got  another  ordeh 
the  last  mail,  from  the  boa'd,  to  lay  up  the  dredge 
and  paint  and  coveh — and  abandon  the  option  on 
that  land  beyond  Isle  Bonne.  The  boa'd  is  nervous 
again  about  that  suit.  I'm  goin'  to  town  now  and 
I'll  wire  'em  to  go  plum'  to  hell.  I'm  runnin'  this 
now,  and  this  is  the  free  state  o'  Barataria,  and  it 


THE    HATE    OF    MEN  183 

will  take  a  bunch  of  gunmen  to  stop  this  work — di 
rectors  or  no  directors.  I  cain't  stop  fo'  a  woman, 
either.  It's  the  last  gamble  now.  The  hurricane 
months  are  comin'  and  the  heat  and  lonesomeness, 
and  bad  water  and  short  grub,  maybe.  Big  Jim  and 
me  will  go  out  and  take  the  rousty  with  us.  That 
leaves  Mangy,  the  cook,  and  you — Redfield?"  He 
looked  patiently  at  the  other  man.  "Hate  me  all  you 
want — but  are  you  go  in'  to  stay  on  the  job  ?" 

"I'm  going  to  stay  on  the  job." 

"Trie's  two  guns  in  the  bunk-house,"  went  on  the 
boss  irrelevantly.  "The  .303  automatic  and  the  buck 
shot  gun.  Cut  loose  at  anybody  that  comes  near — 
don't  let  the  swamp  niggers  do  any  of  this  voodoo 
foolishness  with  Mangy  and  scare  him  off."  Then 
he  looked  again  seriously  at  his  helper.  "See  here — 
last  night  this  girl  tried  to  get  you  to  quit  me,  didn't 
she?" 

"Yes." 

The  Texan's  smile  came.  "Well,  damn  you !  Hate 
me,  man — I'm  goin'  out  front  to-day." 

He  turned  to  his  packing  in  the  forlorn  bunk- 
house.  When  Big  Jim  returned  from  Prosper's 
they  loaded  some  broken  gears  and  pipe  into  the 
launch  and  set  off  on  the  seventy-five  miles  to  the 
city.  They  would  have  to  send  east  for  the  parts 


1 84  JOHN    THE    FOOL 

and  it  would  take  ten  days  at  best.  Meantime  Virgil 
would  try  to  hire  a  crew  for  the  night  shift. 

Big  Jim  had  a  pithy  story  to  relate.  "She  cried," 
he  said,  "when  we  got  clear  of  the  canal  and  turned 
north  into  the  lake — she  looked  back  yere  and  then 
at  the  big  woods  on  Isle  Bonne,  and  cried.  I  let 
her  cut  loose  all  the  way  to  Prosper's — damned  if 
I'd  sympathize." 

But  the  boss  looked  thoughtful.  Slowly  the  thing 
was  getting  to  him.  When  he  left  he  turned  aside 
to  me,  as  if  to  ease  his  spirit  for  a  moment 

"I  reckon  you've  gone  over,  Doctor.  All  right — 
I  ain't  askin'  you  none.  You  know  what  I  told  you 
about  Laure  once.  I  come  as  close  to  lovin'  her  as 
I  want,  but  she  cain't  beat  me — that's  all.  Only, 
somehow,  with  you-all,  I  have  to  stand  fo'  a  good 
deal." 

We  watched  the  launch  slip  to  the  vanishing  point 
of  the  canal  behind  us.  To  the  dim  blue  wall  of 
the  forest  northward,  stretched  the  fire-riven  prairie 
cane.  A  crow  was  calling  lonesomely  in  the  first 
of  the  dead  cypress.  Mangy,  the  cook,  put  his  head 
out  of  the  kitchen. 

"It  sho'  gwine  ter  be  a  bad  ten  days  yere,  Misteh 
Redfield.  Ah  tell  yo'  befo'  dey's  nothin'  but  evil 
gwine  ter  come  outen  all  dis  diggin'.  Yes,  seh — 


THE    HATE    OF   MEN  185 

dem  ole  pirate  folkses,  cley  done  laid  a  curse  on  dis 
island — and  den  mah  black  people  laid  a  curse  on  it, 
fo'  ole  Armand  Drouillot,  he  drowned  ninety  slaves 
here  once  to  keep  de  gove'ment  from  cotchin'  'em." 

We  sent  Mangy  back  to  his  work  with  some  hard 
words.  The  face  of  failure  was  enough  to  stare  at 
without  his  African  superstition.  I  knew  Clell 
wanted  me  to  stay  with  him  at  the  dredge,  but  I 
had  a  feeling  that  he  would  resent  my  offer  to  do 
so.  Besides  I  had  a  curiosity  as  to  how  the  baron 
would  explain  the  palpable  work  of  his  renegades — 
and  their  failure. 

Clell  and  I  sat  down  to  a  silent  supper  in  the  cook 
house.  Mangy  shuffled  in  and  out  with  his  thick 
plates  and  cups  over  the  creaking  floor  below  which 
we  heard  the  bilge  water  swash  against  the  bulk 
heads.  The  mosquito  hour  had  come,  and  our 
screened  doors  were  gray  with  the  humming  horde 
against  the  last  golden  splash  of  the  sunset.  The 
"mosquito  wind"  off  the  dread  La  Fourche  delta 
had  blown  all  day.  To  stay  outdoors  was  quite  im 
possible. 

"You  can't  get  back  to  the  baron's  very  well," 
observed  Clell,  "unless  you  wait  till  the  mosquitoes 
quit  this  evening  rush.  All  the  same,  Doctor  Dick, 
I  don't  want  you  here.  To  stay  all  night,  that  is." 


1 86  JOHN    THE    FOOL 

I  stared  at  him  somewhat  incredulously;  I  Had 
supposed  that  was  what  he  secretly  wanted  but 
would  not  ask.  "Why?"  I  muttered. 

He  raised  his  bronzed  bare  arm  with  a  great  ges 
ture  out  to  the  scourge-ridden  marsh  and  sky. 

"Because  I  want  to  face  it.  I  even  wish  the  nig 
ger  was  gone." 

"Boy,  what  are  you  talking  about?" 

He  was  laughing  now.  "Oh,  you  won't  under 
stand.  The  thing's  got  me — that's  all.  That  fellow 
— Williams — damn  him !  I  just  want  to  stand  in  his 
shoes  a  day  and  night  and  face  it — the  big  failure. 
I've  made  it  pretty  mean  for  him — so's  everything 
else.  He  stood  the  gaff — he's  standing  it  now.  He 
went  off  without  a  word,  leaving  his  plant  in  my 
charge — and  he  knows  I  hate  him — and  could  ruin 
him.  Why,  damn  him — it's  big !" 

I  looked  at  Clell  silently. 

"I  could  throw  a  monkey-wrench  into  some  of 
his  gear,"  he  went  on  evenly,  "and  ruin  him.  Or  a 
match  into  this  oil  waste."  He  rubbed  his  hard 
hands.  "Look,  Doctor  Dick.  Three  months  ago 
I  was  a  lackey  for  a  ten-million  dollar  trust — and 
never  could  get  close  enough  to  a  man  in  'it  to  know 
whether  he  was  real  or  not.  A  big  real  man.  That's 


THE    HATE    OF    MEN  187 

the  fine  thing  down  here.  Things  count.  You  can 
hate  big — or  love — " 

He  checked  himself  and  his  gaze  grew  long  out 
of  Mangy's  sodden  window  at  the  splendor  of  that 
sky.  "I  was  hoping  he'd  fail — just  as  I'd  known 
failure.  If  I'd  have  seen  a  square  way  to  ditch  him 
I'd  have  done  it.  The  city  had  screwed  me  up  that 
way — to  a  hating  tension.  Why,  I  was  sore  because 
I  couldn't  get  married  on  a  dinky  twenty-five  a  week 
— and  stick  at  a  dog-trot  for  the  Amalgamated  Elec 
tric  the  rest  of  my  life!"  He  laughed  sheepishly. 
"Married!" 

"Well,"  I  said  placidly,  "there  is  not  a  deal  in 
marriage  that  should  interfere  with  one's  happi 
ness.  But  one  must  be  the  right  sort  to  put  up  with 
it.  You  didn't  surprise  me,  boy — I  knew  you  had 
the  stuff  in  you.  But  it's  funny  this  thing  is  put  up 
to  you.  Maybe  you  don't  know  how  we  are  fixed 
• — both  Mary  and  myself — to  say  nothing  of  a  lot 
more.  I've  got  absolutely  every  dollar  I  possess 
sunk  into  Virgil's  infernal  land  scheme.  And 
Mary—" 

"Doctor  Dick !"  he  exclaimed. 

"It's  true.  Mary  and  I — well,  everything  else 
failed  Virgil  the  last  two  months.  Besides  what  I 


1 88  JOHN    THE    FOOL 

had  in  before — and  all  Mary's  little  fortune — and 
she's  always  put  by  a  few  thousand  a  year — I've 
cleared  out  of  everything  to  keep  this  concern  afloat. 
I  hate  to  confess  I'm  a  fool.  The  baron  is  right — • 
only  he  doesn't  know  I'm  a  stockholder  in  Isle 
Bonne,  or  he'd  challenge  me  again.  I — well,  con 
found  you,  boy — you're  righting  for  Mary  and  me, 
after  all,"  I  listened  to  Mangy  scraping  his  last  ket 
tle  for  the  night.  "I  believe — on  my  soul — we're  all 
cleaned  out.  Only  this  fellow — Virgil — somehow, 
you  can't  help  trusting  him." 

"Yes,"  Clell  muttered,  "that's  what  bothered  me 
so  long !  I  didn't  want  to.  And  now — " 

"You  see?" 

"I  roughed  it  a  bit  with  him,  I  imagine.  He's 
pretty  square.  His  old  affair  with  Mary — and  then 
I  came  into  her  life.  He  got  over  that,  and  now 
he's  picking  up  the  man's  load  for  us  despite  it  all." 

"See  here,"  I  retorted,  "you  say  you  hate  him?" 

"Yes."  He  made  a  grand  flourish  off  to  the 
outer  world.  "It's  as  great  as  love.  I  like  the  fel 
low's  game,  you  see.  He — he's  smashed  something 
out  of  me — some  littleness,  some  failure,  some  bit 
terness.  Mary's  crowd — with  their  patter  of  cults 
and  movements  and  uplifts — very  fine,  only  I  never 
was  able  to  get  under  any  man's  skin.  Then  along 


THE    HATE    OF   MEN  189 

came  Williams,  and  he  hurt  me  down  deep.  Per 
haps  he  saw  I — I — had  failed — with  Mary  and 
everything — perhaps  he  threw  the  iron  into  me  pur 
posely — sometimes  I  wonder?  Oh,  I  couldn't  bear 
his  smile  that  night — pleasantly  tolerant  of  us  all ! 
I  didn't  know  he  himself  was  backed  into  a  ditch  and 
fighting,  too.  He  was  the  creator,  fighting  the  sea 
back  from  a  hundred  thousand  acres  of  the  earth 
for  other  human  beings  to  live  on.  I  see  now  why 
he  used  to  look  on  Mary's  culture  crowd  as  merely 
children — and  me  as  a  whimperer  who  imagined  he 
was  licked  to  begin  with.  Why,  damn  him,  he 
shoved  me  into  this,  and  the  rougher  it  got,  the  more 
he  smiled." 

I  could  hardly  conceal  my  wonder  at  him.  "For 
Mary's  sake,"  I  murmured,  and  he  looked  quickly  at 
me  and  shook  his  head. 

"I'm  all  over  that.  I  was  jealous  of  him — but 
that's  gone.  Mary's  free.  I  don't  even  care  any 
more.  I  made  good,  you  see;  and  Williams  will 
have  to  see  it.  He — he's  got  to  see  it!" 

I  listened  to  the  boy's  desperate  joy;  he  would 
wring  this  out  of  Williams  in  the  end,  the  man's 
tribute  to  a  man.  I  began  to  understand  now. 
Only  I  thought  of  Mary's  letters  to  me;  a  trifle 
wistful,  a  bit  lonely.  I  had  been  commanded  not 


190  JOHN    THE    FOOL 

to  show  them  to  Clell,  or  mention  her.  I  must 
let  him  forget  if  he  would.  But  she  wrote  me: 
"You  speak  of  the  way  Clell  is  making  good  in 
that  wilderness — dear  Dick,  the  wilderness  is  here — • 
with  me!"  I  was  surprised  at  Mary.  I  had  not 
thought  she  cared  except  in  her  superior  fashion. 
She  had  an  exasperating  way  of  being  always 
"right."  That  was  what  drove  Clell  away  from 
her  undoubtedly. 

"See  here,"  I  put  in  on  his  exalted  mood.  "You 
said  this  island  girl  had  tried  to  win  you  away 
from  Virgil  and  the  work  here?" 

"Well,"  he  retorted,  "can  you  blame  her?" 

"Not  exactly.  Only  she  can't  be  allowed  to 
wreck  things." 

"No,"  he  answered.  "I  told  her  that.  It's  queer 
how  I  stood  up  for  Williams.  She  knows  I  hate 
him — not  exactly  why,  but  she  guesses.  She's  pret 
ty  keen,  Doctor.  She  isn't  exactly  the  wild  crea 
ture  we  supposed." 

"Not  at  all.  Blood  will  tell,  the  baron  insists, 
and  her  line  of  adventuring  ancestors  were  not 
fools,  from  all  I  understand.  She  can  even  speak 
decent  English  when  she  wishes;  and  with  a  gun — 
well  you  ought  to  see  her." 

"And  her  eyes — did  you  ever  notice?" 


THE    HATE    OF    MEN  191 

I  watched  him  for  some  time,  and  he  was  serious. 

"I  suppose  you've  guessed,"  I  went  on  at  length, 
"that  Virgil  loved  her." 

"Yes.  He  stood  that,  too,  from  me.  His  hands 
are  tied — he  can't  make  a  move  to  defend  himself 
with  her.  When  the  smash  comes,  and  she  loses 
her  island,  he  will  only  be  in  worse.  And  here  I  am 
— standing  by,  waiting.  And  the  girl  is  desperately 
turning  for  help  somewhere.  You  see  old  Prosper's 
at  the  end  of  his  string.  He's  had  a  couple  of  old 
Creole  lawyers  fighting  his  case  all  these  years,  and 
every  now  and  then  he'd  mortgage  a  parcel  of  his 
land  holdings  to  pay  expenses.  But  now  they  see 
he'll  lose,  and  they'll  make  trouble  on  the  mortgages. 
And  there  sits  Prosper  and  stirs  his  coffee — it's 
Laure  that  has  to  face  matters.  And  her  pride — her 
great  pride — will  be  crushed  when  Virgil  beats  her 
— she'll  never  listen  to  him  then."  The  boy  mut 
tered  aside  a  moment :  "But  I — I'm  here  to  help  her 
at  the  finish — only — only — " 

"Only  what?"  I  retorted. 

"Only — Williams.  The  fellow,  you  see,  makes 
you  want  to  play  square  with  yourself.  He's  forever 
putting  it  up  to  me  to  make  good — with  myself." 

"About  the  size,"  I  answered,  "of  a  man's  size 
job,  isn't  it  ?" 


CHAPTER  XII 

THE  NAPOLEON  OF  THE  NINE  BEERS 

1  PADDLED  my  johnboat  back  up  the  shadowy 
water  lane  at  midnight  to  the  baron's  as  Clell 
had  insisted.  The  boy,  indeed,  wished  to  face  it 
alone.  He,  I  saw,  was  playing  a  great  game  with 
himself,  with  his  enemy,  his  love,  the  sky,  the  sea, 
the  open — he  was  telling  himself  that  he  was  a  man 
and  equal  to  things.  A  trifle  Quixotic  just  now  but 
sturdy,  with  the  leap  of  new  life  and  discovering 
youth.  It  was  a  great  thing  to  saw  him  across  such 
tough  metal  as  Virgil  Williams,  I  told  myself.  Mary 
was  right,  after  all,  to  let  them  go.  Mary,  up  there 
in  the  city  that  she  had  come  to  call  her  wilderness. 
When  I  turned  into  the  forest  glade  out  of  the 
saw-grass  marsh  a  dim  light  was  burning  against  the 
black  woods  of  John-the-Fool.  I  drew  up  along 
the  platform  by  the  baron's  house.  The  doughty 
beggar  himself  waved  a  vast  arm  from  his  red 
robe  as  he  sat  just  within  the  door. 

192 


NAPOLEON  OF  THE  NINE  BEERS     193 

"It  is  late  for  you,  my  good  Doctor,"  he  began 
casually,  as  if  nothing  at  all  had  happened  in  the 
last  thirty  hours. 

"And  most  late  for  you  to  sit  up — and  alone,  my 
good  Baron,"  I  answered. 

"Alone?  Not  at  all."  He  motioned  to  the  low 
table  by  his  chair  and  I  saw  an  array  of  bottles 
and  a  hapless  cake  of  ice  melting  in  the  midnight 
semitropic  warmth.  "Here  sit  I  and  the  excellent 
beer.  It  is  a  treat,  I  assure  you.  Allesjandro 
brought  a  Case  and  the  ice  from  some  La  Fourche 
camp.  Your  glass,  Doctor.  I  awaited  you  pa 
tiently.  Beer  at  John-the-Fool  is  an  event.  Here 
I  have  sat  and  chased  the  puling  universe  down 
to  a  pin-hole,  looked  at  it  clearly  and  extended 
my  congratulations  to  the  Almighty.  It  is  not  a  bad 
job  for  presumably  His  first  attempt  at  creation.  I 
am  not  altogether  displeased,  though  He  might  have 
dispensed  with  the  mosquitoes.  I  had  my  fling  at  it, 
my  good  Doctor."  He  chuckled  out  of  his  prodi 
gious  depths.  "I  thought  it  all  over  to-night — the 
great  past  of  it,  and  what  must  come.  I  slapped 
the  map  of  Europe  together  in  half  a  dozen  combi 
nations;  I  put  kings  up  here,  and  dynasties  down 
there,  and  ran  races  over  races  and  claptrap  repub- 


194  JOHN   THE    FOOL 

lies  to  the  junk-heap.  Eh,  the  mind  I  have — if  I  but 
had  legs  to  match  it!  Napoleon  was  a  dolt  beside 
me." 

"By  the  bottles  here,  and  empty,  I  must  say  you 
undoubtedly  scourged  half  the  world." 

"Ah,  you  have  it!  Nine,  Doctor — and  he  who 
can  not  build  his  empire  on  nine  beers  will  never  do 
it  on  more."  He  pulled  on  his  pipe  again  until  the 
bowl  of  it  lighted  half  his  shack.  He  sighed.  "And 
now  I  sit  at  the  edge  of  our  isle  and  quarrel  with 
you  Yankees  over  a  ditch  of  mud.  Still,  the  great 
soul  must  have  its  quarrel — life  would  dry  up  for 
me  overnight  if  I  had  nothing  to  scheme  against — 
no  cause  to  espouse,  no  sentiment  to  cherish,  no  love 
to  exalt.  Your  infernal  dredge  is  over-muddy  for 
a  clean  man  to  combat,  but  it  is  better  than  drooling 
away  in  a  chimney  corner." 

"You  made  an  excellent  mess  of  your  warfare 
last  night,  my  dear  Baron.  To  set  your  thieving 
blacks  to  fire  the  marsh  while  we  were  at  your 
party  was  not  Napoleonic." 

He  grinned  with  the  humor  of  a  gargoyle  under 
his  great  brows. 

"I  have  had  my  first  quarrel  with  my  marquise 
over  that" 

"She  did  not  know,  then  ?" 


NAPOLEON  OF  THE  NINE  BEERS     195 

"The  devil — no !  That  is — what  the  consequence 
might  have  been.  You  observe  how  she  fled  to  stop 
it  when  she  found  your  men  were  bound  to  walk 
into  the  pit  of  hell.  Still,  confound  her  conscience, 
we  would  have  burned  you  out,  if  she  had  not  had 
the  wit  to  blow  up  your  powder  boat  prematurely. 
To  save  their  hides — that's  the  woman  of  it!" 

"You  confess  to  it  easily,"  I  murmured,  wiping 
his  beer  from  my  mustache. 

"To  you,  my  dear  Doctor.  You  are  an  arbiter 
as  it  were.  A  man  of  honor,  of  delicacy — even  of 
chivalry." 

"U-um,"  I  murmured,  and  began  casually  to  esti 
mate  just  how  deep  I  had  gone,  the  last  three 
months,  as  a  stockholder  into  Virgil's  Isle  Bonne 
swamp  lands  company  which  this  unsuspecting  old 
cock  would  ruin  if  he  could.  Let  him  hang  himself 
If  he  will,  I  thought;  and  then  put  a  question  to 
him  abruptly. 

"My  dear  Baron,  why  do  you  so  fear  the  dis 
covery  of  that  ancient  wreck  of  a  schooner  lying 
there  in  the  edge  of  the  deep  swamp?" 

He  started  with  equal  abruptness.  "Of  course," 
I  went  on  indifferently,  as  if  I  knew  all  about  it 
and  cared  less:  "it's  interesting  as  a  relic,  to  our 
young  friend  of  Isle  Bonne — this  sunken  slave  run- 


196  JOHN    THE    FOOL 

ner  of  her  great  grand-uncle,  Armand.  Undoubt 
edly,  you  ought  to  dig  it  out ;  but  why  this  secrecy  ? 
Mr.  Williams,  I  assure  you,  would  let  your  black 
men  pump  the  hulk  dry  while  his  dredge  worked 
peacefully  past  it.  He  has  a  mind  that  jconsiders 
little  back  of  last  year's  hurricane.  And  if  it's 
really  a  piratical  hull  of  Lafitte's  day,  and  you 
expect  to  find  treasure,  as  all  the  cajuns  do — good! 
Mr.  Williams  would  pronounce  it  very  interesting, 
but  he  wouldn't  stop  his  dredge  even  to  cast  an 
eye  at  it." 

The  old  fellow  nudged  forward  in  his  chair  and 
tapped  me  with  his  pipe  bowl.  "He  might  well. 
There  is  a  possibility — "  then  his  brows  contracted ; 
his  old  eyes  shone,  his  usual  fat  grimace  came: 
"Well,  let  the  fool  dig — he's  wasting  an  amazing 
amount  of  some  one's  money." 

"Just  what,"  I  retorted,  "do  you  mean  ?" 

But  the  Baron  John  waddled  up  and  away  in  his 
red  robe,  stopping  however — although  it  was  now 
two  in  the  morning — to  wind  his  execrable  phono 
graph  so  that  it  was  now  bawling  out  La  Favorita 
on  the  peaceful  air.  Once  in  bed  he  kept  the  time 
with  his  pipe  as  usual. 

I  retired  quite  disgusted  at  his  utter  frankness 
about  his  criminal  schemes.  He  took  me  for  grant- 


NAPOLEON  OF  THE  NINE  BEERS     197 

ed.  He  was  ever  irritatingly  sure  of  himself  like 
an  excellent  card-player  who  can  play  fair  and 
win,  or  nonchalantly  stack  the  cards  and  lose,  but 
fair  or  foul,  remain  equally  composed,  knowing  that 
he  has  the  odds  against  you  in  the  end. 

I  promised  myself  that  I  would  clear  out  of  his 
lodge  this  week.  The  listening  to  all  this  posing 
and  boasting,  and  then  knowing  the  grim  battle  our 
fellows  were  having  to  keep  the  dredge  at  work, 
was  getting  on  my  nerves.  I  hadn't  taken  the  ba 
ron's  feud  seriously  before,  and  as  for  Papa  Pros- 
per's  case  in  court  against  the  transfer  of  Isle  Bonne 
by  the  French  heirs,  why  there  was  no  chance  for 
us  to  lose.  It  was  hanging  on  to  Virgil's  option  on 
the  swamp  beyond  that  was  racking  us  all ;  to  make 
it  good  he  must  complete  his  dredge  contract. 

But  the  next  morning  a  deal  of  this  resolve  had 
gone.  Laure  of  Isle  Bonne  had  come  over,  as  usual, 
bringing  the  greater  part  of  that  old  scoundrel's 
breakfast.  When  his  man  Friday  was  absent,  our 
saint  of  the  woods  was  much  taken  with  looking 
after  the  baron's  household.  She  was  rather  dis 
trait  this  morning  and  greeted  me  with  a  pallid 
composure  that  led  me  to  think  she  was  not  over 
her  unnerving  shock  of  two  nights  ago.  There  was 
a  wound  against  her  throat  where  bits  of  the  debris 


198  JOHN    THE    FOOL 

from  Virgil's  dynamite  boat  had  struck  her.  She 
smiled  over  the  baron's  coffee.  The  old  fellow 
was  rather  morose;  I  gathered  that  his  beer  had 
been  a  trifle  green.  When  I  happened  to  mention 
casually,  that  Williams  had  gone  to  the  city  they 
both  started  curiously. 

"Then  who  is  there?"  asked  Laure  abruptly. 

"Mr.  Redfield  and  the  cook,"  I  answered.  "And 
I  shall  keep  him  company." 

They  looked  significantly  at  each  other.  Perhaps 
I  had  been  a  guest  quite  long  enough.  But  it  was 
not  of  that  Laure  was  thinking. 

I  came  upon  her  out  on  the  platform  looking  off 
at  the  canal  leading  westward  from  the  cove  in 
the  forest.  One  could  make  out  a  thin  trail  of 
smoke  from  the  dredge  stacks  two  miles  away  over 
the  shimmer  of  marsh.  And  her  study  suddenly 
provoked  me  to  boldness;  it  was  always  the  most 
effective  with  our  small  enemy  to  startle  her  off  her 
guard. 

"See  here,  mademoiselle,"  I  began,  "ever  since  I 
told  you  my  friend  was  alone  there,  you  have 
seemed  in  a  mood.  Now,  I  warn  you  not  to  attempt 
any  advantage  of  that." 

She  laughed  outright;  the  first  of  that  moody 
morning.  "I,  messieur?  For  what  should  I  harm 


NAPOLEON  OF  THE  NINE  BEERS     199 

that  kind  young  man!  He  is  my  friend — all  that 
he  can  be." 

"That  may  be — in  the  sense  that  I  am.  All 
the  same,  we  don't  trust  you.  We  know  now,  what 
you  tried." 

"I  want  to  save  my  island." 

"That's  no  way  to  do  it.  You  might  ruin  Will 
iams  some  way  or  other  but  your  isle  is  in  the 
hands  of  the  court.  And — "  I  added  deliberately, 
"the  case  comes  up  this  week  for  a  last  hearing  on 
appeal." 

She  threw  up  her  hands  in  utter  anguish.  I  knew 
then  what  was  torturing  her.  It  shot  over  her  ex 
pressive  face,  wave  on  wave  of  fear,  grief,  doubt 
and  hatred  for  us  all.  "I  knew,  also,"  she  mur 
mured.  "Ah,  we  were  desperate.  There  is  no  one 
at  home  who  cares.  Papa  Prosper,  what  does  he  do  ? 
Nothing!  Stir  his  cafe  au  lait  and  say:  'Mebbe — 
mebbe,'  this  or  that.  Mebbe  he  get  rich  like  a  mil 
lionaire  and  then  Isle  Bonne? — Who  care?  Ah,  I 
fled  from  it  all  and  came  to  the  baron!  He  is 
one  man  who  can  fight  you!" 

The  Baron  John  Bernal  De  Vedrinnes  was  in 
specting  a  patent  tip  from  one  of  his  nine  bottles; 
he  sighed  lugubriously — the  beer  had  been  too  un 
ripe  by  far,  for  empire-building. 


200  JOHN    THE    FOOL 

"Why  fight  us,  my  dear  young  lady?  You  are 
perfectly  mad.  Your  whole  scheme  is  absurd.  Laws, 
courts,  injunctions — evictions — records — all  that 
sort  of  thing  is  the  way  men  fight  nowadays.  Why 
plots  and  poniards  and  all  that?  The  Baron  is 
daft.  Who  are  your  attorneys  in  the  city  ?" 

"Ah,  mon  Dieu — I  don't  know!  What  for  I 
know  lawyers  ?  The  baron,  he  say — " 

"You  poor  child — "  began  I,  in  real  commiser 
ation,  forgetting  our  dilemma  in  her  own.  Then 
she  turned  angrily  on  me.  "I  wish  I  had  let  it 
blow  up!" 

"But  you  didn't.  You  mercifully  and  courageous 
ly  let  Mr.  Williams  live  to  work  another  day." 

"Do  not  mention  him!" 

"He's  gone  to  the  city — and  he'll  bring  men  and 
machines  more  than  ever,"  I  retorted.  Then  con 
tinued  placidly:  "Why  don't  you  come  over  and 
look  at  his  diabolical  machine  that  you  hate  so 
well?" 

She  looked  long  at  it.  "Very  well.  I  never  have 
been  near  it.  It's  a  monster,  tearing  the  heart  out 
of  my  beautiful  forest.  We  will  go  see." 

I  followed  her  as  she  stole  out  of  the  glade  in 
her  running  pirogue.  The  baron  had  closed  his 


NAPOLEON  OF  THE  NINE  BEERS    201 

eyes  and  was  sighing  over  another  bottle  of  his  too- 
green  beer — an  unopened  one,  this  time. 

It  was  a  long  hot  pull  in  that  silent  grass-hung 
canal  to  the  dredge  at  the  end  of  it.  We  passed 
the  blackened  area,  and  then  the  torn  embankment 
where  the  dynamite  boat  had  gone  up.  The  wood 
saint  laughed.  "Bom!  Do  you  remember  the 
noise,  Doctor?"  Then  she  fell  silent,  and  I  had 
hard  work  keeping  up  with  her  canoe  stroke,  so 
sure,  so  easy,  so  elusive  the  quick  strength  with 
which  she  drew  the  pirogue  through  the  water. 
We  drew  up  at  the  greasy  deck  of  the  dredge. 
Clell  was  testing  some  lubricants  in  the  engine- 
room  and  did  not  see  us  until  Laure  darkened  the 
door.  Then  he  gasped  his  amazement.  He  extended 
a  grimy  hand. 

"It  is  honest  dirt  on  there,"  he  said  smilingly. 

"But  mine — from  off  my  isle,  messieur.  I  sup 
pose  you  will  make  a  pretty  speech  now,  and  say 
I  can  have  it  back — with  the  hand."  She  turned 
to  look  up  in  the  black  space  around  the  drums  and 
boilers,  and  her  assurance  seemed  going.  She  was 
in  the  enemy's  camp,  and  it  spoke  grim  power  and 
brute  purpose  against  her  fancies.  Somehow  my 
provoking  sympathy  for  her  would  arise ;  so  I  turned 


202  JOHN    THE    FOOL 

into  the  hot  little  office  and  pretended  to  be  ab 
sorbed  in  the  blue-prints  on  Williams'  desk,  leaving 
them  out  on  the  deck  among  the  machinery  in  that 
silence  of  the  noon  swamp. 

"After  this,"  she  went  on  slowly.  "We  can  not 
pretend  to  be  friends — none  of  us,  at  all.  He — he 
will  not  trust  me  any  more ;  and  I — I  will  hate  him 
more  than  ever." 

"You  splendid  little  fighter !  I — oh,  well — I  wish 
I  could  help  you.  This  Williams — I  hated  him,  too, 
Laure.  Only,  he  wore  it  out,  someway.  I  wish 
you  had  never  refused  his  compromise.  It's  too 
late  now,  but  that  forty  thousand  dollars  he  made 
the  company  offer  you — " 

"Jamais — jamais!  No — we  shall  go  away!  Mes- 
sieur  le  Baron,  he  say  we  shall  go  to  France — to 
Bordeaux — and  he  will  shake  his  fist  at  my  cousin 
there  who  sold  out  the  property;  we  shall  go  to 
Paris,  to  Vienna,  St.  Petersburg — always  the  ba 
ron  say  he  shall  roar  and  shake  his  fist  and  de 
nounce  Yankees.  Messieur  le  Baron  say,  first  I  must 
have  a  little  hat,  all  pearls  and  danglets  like  we  saw 
in  a  magazine,  which  will  make  me  look  dangerous 
like  a  Russian  spy  of  royalty — and  then  to  Europe 
we  shall  go,  and  never  shall  Messieur  le  Baron 
cease  to  denounce  Yankees  and  lawyers  and  dig 
gers  of  mud." 


NAPOLEON  OF  THE  NINE  BEERS    203 

"He  is  a  magnificent  fool,  Laure." 

"That  is  the  only  kind  to  be.  It  is  better  than 
digging  mud  or  talking  seed  catalogue  for  cabbages 
like  Papa  Prosper.  Messieur  le  Baron  say  he  will 
take  me  to  the  palace  of  his  cousin,  the  Prince  of 
Thurn — he  say  in  the  prince's  garden  there  are  no 
mosquitoes  like  Isle  Bonne." 

"And  no  wonderful  sunsets  shining  back  from 
the  pools  in  the  forest,  and  from  the  lakes  when 
you  cross  in  the  little  green  pirogue;  and  there  will 
be  no  wild  garden  such  as  Prosper's  where  you  are 
free.  You  will  have  many  things,  perhaps — gowns 
and  people  and  sights,  but  you  will  want  to  come 
back  to  your  island  some  day." 

"Be  still,"  she  whispered.  "My  island — and  he 
is  taking  it." 

The  young  man  was  silent;  then  he  went  on, 
for  she  seemed  stricken  with  grief  at  last,  and  had 
not  her  usual  blithe  defiance:  "I  know.  But  if 
you  could  see — what  he  sees  ?  The  Isle  Bonne  lands 
again  reclaimed  from  the  sea — and  the  homes  and 
farms  on  what  your  family  abandoned  long  ago  to 
desolation — how  beautiful  he  would  make  it.  I  can 
see  it,  Laure,  and  I — I — hated  him." 

"I  know,"  she  said.  "That  is  the  strange  thing. 
And  you  cared  for  me  a  bit — and  yet  would  not 
help  me." 


204  JOHN    THE    FOOL 

"There  was  the  man's  game,"  he  answered. 
"That  was  the  big  thing." 

"Ah,  that  is  the  way  it  goes!"  She  sighed,  her 
light  step  sounded  forward,  and  she  was  unloosen 
ing  the  tie-line  of  her  green  canoe.  She  had  not 
won  him  from  his  grudged  loyalty.  To  me,  listen 
ing,  that  was  the  fine  thing,  the  rugged  love  he  was 
finding  for  the  chief  despite  himself;  women  were 
well  enough,  but  this  was  greater,  the  man's  stuff, 
in  him. 

I  heard  her  speak  again  above  the  stroke  of  her 
paddle :  "Suppose  there  was  danger?  M'sieu,  would 
you  come?  Could  I  call  you?" 

"From  the  ends  of  the  earth !  Only,  what  do  you 
mean,  Laure?" 

The  little  green  pirogue  had  slipped  along  in 
the  shadow  of  the  rozo  cane;  she  turned  to  look 
back  with  a  sad  smile. 

"But  when  it  came  I  should  have  to  call  on  one 
who  loved  me !" 

He  watched  her  go,  staring  after  her  in  doubt  at 
her  new  moods.  She  was  admitting  sorry  defeat 
after  her  long  defiance. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

THE  OLD  PIRATE  HEAD 

I  CAME  back  to  the  idle  dredge  boat  the  next  day, 
after  a  rather  perplexing  night  at  the  baron's.  I 
had  spent  it  alone.  It  was  the  first  time  the  rotund 
knight  had  not  awakened  under  his  mosquito  net 
ting  and  bawled  for  Allesjandro  to  fetch  the  early 
coffee.  I  wondered  at  this  absence.  Allesjandro's 
pink  and  blue  lugger,  which  had  lain  yesterday  in 
the  cove  of  the  flooded  forest,  must  nave  been 
poled  out  the  canal  to  the  tidal  lakes  during  the 
night,  and  the  master  with  it.  Neither  did  Laure 
come  stealing  through  the  Isle  Bonne  swamps  in 
her  pirogue  from  the  other  side  of  the  island.  "That 
proves,"  I  reflected,  "that  something  was  planned  by 
the  two.  Something  is  up  in  this  dolorous  warfare." 
I  made  my  own  coffee,  and  then  put  off  to  Will 
iams'  dredge  two  miles  in  the  shimmery  marsh.  It 
was  a  fair  breezy  morning  with  the  whisk  of  white 
clouds  up  from  the  gulf;  one  could  almost  catch 
the  tumult  of  the  surf  on  those  outer  reefs. 

205 


206  JOHN    THE    FOOL 

Clell  hailed  me  from  the  craneman's  nest  up  on 
the  arm  of  the  derrick  which  swung  idly  above  the 
steel  "clam-shell"  digger.  The  first  impression  was 
of  his  loneliness;  the  murky  little  kitchen  was  de 
serted. 

"Mangy's  cleared  out !"  Clell  hailed  me  blithely. 
"The  first  night  alone  was  too  much  for  his  nerves. 
And  I  can't  understand  it.  He  came  in  the  bunk- 
house  after  I'd  turned  in,  his  eyes  big  and  white  as 
saucers  and  said  to  me :  'Deh  gib  me  mah  wahnin', 
Marse  Clell!  No  place  fo'  a  riveh  niggeh  hyeh.' 
I  asked  him  what  was  the  matter  and  he  started  to 
tell  me  again  that  wild  yarn  he  always  relates  about 
the  ghost-head  which  is  bad  for  niggers.  His 
mother  once  landed  on  Isle  Bonne  to  start  a  moss- 
picking  camp,  and  first  night  at  supper  a  big  old 
hairy  head  came  plump  down  on  the  table  before 
her.  The  old  lady  grabbed  the  head  and  threw  it 
out  the  door  and  the  piccaninnies  went  on  with  their 
supper.  First  thing  the  old  ghost  head  was  back 
kerplump  on  the  table.  Old  lady  slams  a  frying 
pan  down  on  it,  and  yells:  'G'way  from  here,  yo' 
Ole  Pirate  Haid — yo'  cain't  f raid  me  out  dis  island !' 
Mangy  says  he  remembers  well :  'Ole  Pirate  Haid 
jes'  winks  and  hump  eround  the  table,  and  growls 


THE    OLD    PIRATE    HEAD          207 

first  at  one  piccaninny  and  then  another,  and  finally 
jumps  and  hit  Mangy  in  the  eye.  Yes,  sir,  Mangy 
remembers  it  all  and  he  was  only  two  years  old.  His 
mammy  jumps  up  and  hits  the  Old  Pirate  Haid  a 
clout,  and  the  Old  Pirate  Haid  he  jumps  on  the  floor 
and  trips  her  up,  and  then  knocks  the  lamp  over, 
and  the  camp  burns  up  and  all  the  niggers  take  to 
their  boats  and  beat  it.  They  see  the  Old  Pirate 
Haid  sitting  up  in  the  moss  of  a  big  cypress  grin 
ning  at  them.' 

"So  last  night,  Mangy  pokes  his  head  in  my  room 
and  tells  me  he  done  see  the  Haid  again.  It  stuck 
itself  up  out  of  the  marsh  across  the  ditch  and  roll 
its  eyes  at  him  something  fierce.  Mangy  says  he  was 
too  scared  to  call  for  me;  he  just  had  a  fit.  I  swore 
at  him  and  ragged  him  and  he  went  into  the  bunk- 
house  mumbling.  And  this  morning  he  was  gone — 
cleared  out,  God  knows  where.  Didn't  take  a  boat, 
and  he  must  have  plunged  right  off  in  the  marsh. 
If  he  did,  he's  a  dead  nigger  by  now." 

"Maybe,"  I  answered  interestedly,  "the  Old  Haid 
has  got  him." 

"I  imagine — only  we'd  have  heard  him  yell  a  mile. 
The  point  is  that  Laure  and  the  baron  have  got 
another  one.  It's  tough,  Doctor  Dick,  for  we  can't 


208  JOHN    THE    FOOL 

live  without  a  cook."  Then  he  burst  out  laughing. 
"I  wish  the  old  cock-fighter  would  spring  some 
thing  like  that  on  me !" 

"He's  gone,  too,"  I  answered  still  more  inter 
estedly,  for  things  seemed  coming  to  a  point.  "So's 
Allesjandro's  lugger,  and  Laure,  apparently,  for  she 
didn't  come  over  with  the  baron's  breakfast.  But 
what  are  you  doing  up  there?" 

"Taking  another  look  for  that  fool,  the  cook. 
Promised  Williams  I'd  keep  him  if  I  had  to  use  a 
gun.  But  he  slipped  me." 

We  scanned  the  wall  of  cypress  along  the  marsh 
where  the  last  white  dead  trunk  standing  out  in  the 
salt  pools  marked  the  retreat  of  the  forest  before 
the  encroaching  gulf.  And  while  we  were  discuss 
ing  the  matter  and  the  superstitions  of  the  deep 
swamp  blacks  concerning  the  slave  runners'  island, 
there  came  somewhere  off  on  the  stillness  the  dis 
tinct  boom  of  an  explosion.  We  stopped  dead  in 
our  tracks,  the  sound  was  so  clear  cut  in  that  hot 
morning  air. 

And  then  Clell  raised  his  hand.  "There — do 
you  see?" 

I  marked  a  faint  brown  haze  against  the  distant 
woods,  a  mere  patch  on  the  blue  wall,  but  at  once 
I  noted  that  it  lay  fair  upon  the  spot  where  Armand 


THE    OLD    PIRATE    HEAD         209 

Drouillot's  slave  ship  had  broken  herself  in  the  fif 
ties.  We  heard  the  rumble  dying  away  in  the  re 
cesses  of  Isle  Bonne. 

Clell  had  come  to  me  excitedly.  "Do  you  recall 
what  Laure  said  last  night? — of  danger!" 

"Yes.  Only  this.  Well,  there  is  something  I 
haven't  told  you." 

"Inside?"  He  motioned  to  the  island.  "You 
haven't  told  us!" 

"Well,  I  didn't  want  to  spin  any  yarn  about  a 
sunken  treasure  ship  of  Jean  Lafitte,  and  have  it 
turn  out  to  be  a  Barataria  oyster  boat  come  ashore 
over  the  marshes  on  some  tidal  wave.  But  there  is 
a  wreck  in  there,  with  three  of  the  baron's  outlaw 
niggers  working  at  it.  They  have  been  the  ones 
who  scared  Virgil's  niggers  away,  and  now  they've 
got  Mangy  undoubtedly." 

"Digging?  For  what?" 

"How  can  I  tell?  I  never  mentioned  it.  Virgil 
would  smile  at  that  sort  of  a  yarn.  Only  Laure 
knows — it  belongs  to  one  of  her  slave-running  ances 
tors.  And  they're  digging  in  it — that's  why  they've 
tried  to  obstruct  the  dredge,  only  I  can't  quite  see 
the  use  of  it." 

My  young  friend  was  staring  at  me.  "And  you 
never  told  me !  The  baron — he's  back  of  it." 


210  JOHN    THE    FOOL 

"Exactly.  I've  heard  him  boast  of  it.  As  it's 
a  harmless  diversion,  I  didn't  bother.  And  now  I 
think  likely  they've  blown  it  up." 

Clell  ran  his  fingers  through  his  hair  worriedly. 
"See  here — we  ought  to  look  into  that.  There 
might  be  something  in  it." 

"There  is — mud  and  shells.  The  old  hulk  was 
burned  to  the  water's  edge  apparently  and  filled  with 
stuff  by  the  storms.  I  put  down  the  affair  as  another 
bombastic  hallucination  of  Baron  John's — he  was 
always  winking  an  eye  at  me  over  some  mysterious 
trick  or  other." 

"But  Laure — "  Clell  went  on.  "I  think  we  ought 
to  know.  She  was  sad  enough  last  night.  She — 
appealed — almost  appealed  to  me  for  help,  at  least,  I 
fancied  so." 

"What  can  we  do  particularly?" 

"Go  in  to-night.  I  am  enough  of  a  swamper  now. 
We  can  take  the  small  launch  and  go  around  by 
Bayou  L'Ourse — Big  Jim  and  I  scouted  out  a 
channel  one  Sunday  that  leads  in  deep." 

"You'll  never  make  it,"  I  retorted.  "And  they're 
bad  niggers." 

"That's  just  it.  What  should  she  be  doing  lead 
ing  a  gang  like  Hogjaw  and  Doc  Crump?  The 
baron  would  be  a  joke  in  protecting  her.  I  be- 


THE    OLD    PIRATE    HEAD          211 

lieve  now,  she  needed  us  and  was  too  proud  to  ask 
of  her  enemies." 

I  thought  as  much.  And  I  wondered  at  dell's 
ardor  and  more  at  his  initiative.  He  had  come  to 
a  new  marauding  manhood  of  late ;  and  I  wondered 
also,  if  he  loved  the  girl?  There  was  Mary — but 
then,  with  men,  love  is  a  curious  thing.  I  have 
seen  it  wrecked  by  an  underdone  pie  and  a  neuras 
thenic  stomach.  There  is  one's  soul,  of  course,  but 
then  women  have  never  proved  their  Contention 
as  to  that  and  love. 

So  I  assented.  Clell  would  have  gone  in  alone. 
We  talked  over  a  number  of  ways  to  penetrate  the 
swamp  island.  Bayou  L'Ourse  was  an  unmarked 
channel  winding  in  from  the  shallow  inner  reaches 
of  the  tidal  lakes  through  the  swamp  isle,  which 
scattered  itself  in  numberless  reedy  pools  and  cy 
press-spiked  sloughs  and  finally  reached  the  outlying 
marshes  somewhere  near  the  place  where  we  thought 
the  old  hulk  lay.  We  determined  to  go  in  from 
that  side,  though  it  meant  a  detour  of  many  miles. 
Directly  across  from  us  to  the  forest  edge  the 
flottant  was  impassable,  a  bottomless  mire  hedged 
over  with  a  thin  crust  of  grassy  peat  over  which  a 
man  could  not  walk  and  through  which  he  could 
not  paddle. 


212  JOHN    THE    FOOL 

I  questioned  the  expediency  of  leaving  the  dredge 
unguarded.  Many  eyes  might  be  watching  us  from 
the  forest  rim. 

"That  is  exactly  what  we  want,"  retorted  Clell, 
"they  will  never  dream  that  we  would  leave  the 
big  machine  unprotected  after  what  happened.  And 
if  they  have  a  lookout  lest  we  spy  on  them,  he 
will  merely  watch  the  canal  and  marsh." 

That  seemed  true  enough.  So  we  got  away  at 
sunset  down  the  long  hot  canal  which  was  a  rib 
bon  of  red  and  yellow  in  the  bordering  green.  We 
stole  past  the  cove  of  John-the-Fool  with  some 
trepidation,  but  the  pool  in  the  forest  was  silent 
The  white  bar  at  the  baron's  bed  fluttered  idly  in 
the  doorway.  Not  even  the  lone  dog  was  upon  the 
platform,  and  Allesjandro's  lugger  had  not  returned 
from  the  lakes.  The  silence,  the  sense  of  expectant 
desertion  was  mysterious.  I  had  never  known  the 
old  fellow  to  be  away  a  night  since  my  vagabond 
sojourn  with  him. 

We  rowed  the  small  motor  skiff  for  miles  past 
Isle  Bonne  woods  so  that  the  sound  of  the  engine 
would  not  attract  the  enemy.  It  was  thick  dark 
when  we  passed  Virgil's  forlorn  site  for  his  pump 
ing  plant.  On  the  black  earth  space  lay  his  piles 
of  lumber,  the  cement  slowly  changing  to  stone 


THE    OLD    PIRATE    HEAD         213 

under  the  flimsy  corrugated  sheds,  the  costly  pumps 
and  turbines  under  the  hastily  constructed  shelters 
he  had  been  able  to  improvise  when  the  order  to  quit 
the  construction  had  come  last  autumn.  Clell  stood 
up  and  sighed  in  the  starlight  as  he  poled  past  the 
dim  ghost  of  failure. 

"The  old  chief,"  he  murmured,  "I  guess  it  is 
tough.  Whichever  way  he  looks  from  that  dredge 
arm,  forward  or  back,  he  sees  something  that  ought 
to  be  done — and  he  helpless  to  do  it.  Only  the 
dredge  he  fought  onward — personal  and  specified — 
and  now  it's  blocked.  How  many  weeks  has  he  to 
complete  the  ditch  in  ?" 

"Nine,  I  should  imagine — if  he  could  start  right 
off.  He  told  me  it  was  a  forty-foot  cut  to  the  big 
cypress  and  then  thirty  after  the  turn  for  the  outer 
reef.  It  must  be  five  miles  or  so  but  it  will  be  bet 
ter  going  when  he  gets  away  from  the  forest  edge 
into  softer  stuff." 

"He'll  never  make  it,"  Clell  muttered :  "This  last 
delay — when  they  broke  his  machine — will  be  his 
finish,  Doctor  Dick." 

"Well,"  I  retorted,  with  some  philosophy,  "then 
your  Uncle  Richard  will  begin  again  to  sell  medi 
cine  on  the  road — that's  what  this  imbecility  has 
done  to  me.  And  Mary's  little  money — well,  now 


214  JOHN   THE    FOOL 

I  see  why  Virgil's  eyes  seem  haunted  of  late.  I 
thought  it  was  Laure." 

Clell  mused  idly  over  the  oars.  "Do  you  sup 
pose  he  cares  that  much  ?" 

I  disliked  to  bring  that  matter  up.  The  two  had 
ennobled  the  hate  that  they  had  brought  to  the 
south  woods  by  a  common  danger  and  a  common 
loyalty.  It  was  a  shame  if  two  such  fellows  faced 
again  across  the  gulf  which  their  manhood  had 
slowly  bridged. 

"He  gave  up  much  for  you,"  I  muttered  shortly. 
"And  now — well,  it  seems  that  there  is  nothing  for 
him  except  to  go  on  earning  the  hatred  of  the  girl 
he  loves.  And  you — allowing  you  to  stand  by  and 
profit  by  it  all.  Still,  he  says  nothing — fights  on  as 
grim  as  his  black  monster  of  a  machine  that  is  eat 
ing  the  heart  out  of  her  island.  I  wonder  at  him." 

"I  wonder  what  he  would  do  if  he  were  free — • 
if  he  hadn't  brought  your  money,  Doctor  Dick; 
and  Mary's  money — and  all  the  stockholders'  money 
into  the  scheme  ?  He's  got  to  ruin  you  all,  it  seems — 
or  ruin  Laure  and  her  island.  Do  you  suppose 
the  girl  sees  it  that  way?" 

"A  lot  she  would  care!  The  company  is  a  Yan 
kee  abomination  to  her.  She  doesn't  want  the  land 


THE    OLD    PIRATE    HEAD          215 

reclaimed,  nor  a  furrow  turned  nor  a  house  built — 
she  wishes  her  wilderness  to  go  on  as  it  is." 

"That  is  the  beautiful  thing  about  her,"  Clell  re 
torted.  "She  loves  it  so !  And  as  far  as  this  gabby 
old  guy  of  a  baron  is  concerned  she  doesn't  take 
much  stock  in  him,  I  fancy.  He  puzzles  her,  that's 
all — naturally,  too,  with  his  ranting  about  dukes 
and  flunkies,  fortunes  and  family  trees.  What  girl 
wouldn't  be  interested?" 

"She  believes  him  implicitly." 

"Get  out!"  Clell  answered.  "She's  too  much 
sense.  He  contributes  to  her  play-world,  and  a  very 
fine  play-world  for  a  child  who  had  nothing  to 
dream  of  except  Isle  Bonne.  He's  created  a  real 
mimic  war  for  her,  and  made  himself  the  succoring 
knight.  It's  bully,  but  it  can't  last." 

"And  after  the  baron,  you  expect  to  be  her 
knight,  I  suppose?" 

He  laughed  light-heartedly.  "I'm  waiting  for  the 
smash-up.  And  my  freedom  from  Williams.  Then 
— well,  all  through  Williams  has  been  pretty  square ; 
so,  I  must  be,  also,  Doctor  Dick !" 

And  that  was  what  I  loved  in  him.  It  sweetened 
one's  pipe,  and  made  the  mosquitoes  less  annoying. 

We  got  out  of  the  long  miles  of  canal  at  last 


216  JOHN    THE    FOOL 

and  the  launch  lay  in  the  star-smitten  waters  of 
the  lake.  The  engine  gave  some  trouble  and  it  was 
ten  o'clock  when  we  got  up  along  the  dim  shore 
toward  Isle  Bonne.  After  a  while  one  saw  the 
white  shell  ridges  under  the  oak  fringe,  and  then 
the  cheniere — the  higher  bit  of  land  on  which  was 
Prosper's  house.  It  had  been  a  week  since  we  were 
there  at  the  ill-fated  island  ball.  I  wondered  what 
Papa  thought  of  it  all  as  I  stood  on  that  narrow 
border  between  lake  and  jungle  in  the  clumps  of 
Spanish  bayonet.  Clell  was  wading  and  stumbling 
among  the  cypress  spikes;  at  length  he  called  im 
patiently  that  we  must  have  come  too  far  and  passed 
the  mouth  of  the  inlet  to  the  swamp. 

And  at  his  voice  I  heard  a  laugh.  It  was  near, 
so  near  that  I  involuntarily  stooped  to  scan  the 
beach,  and  then  I  saw  a  figure  against  the  starlight. 
Slender,  evasive,  then  it  moved  and  I  knew  it  was 
no  man.  She  came  closer  intently,  and  I  reached  out 
a  hand  from  the  bayonet  clumps  and  touched  Laure. 
She  started  with  an  exclamation;  then  seemed  to 
recognize  me. 

"M'sieu!  Yes — it  must  be  you — I  saw  you  a 
moment  ago!" 

"What  are  you  doing  here?'"  I  murmured. 

"Merely — well,  spying  on  you." 


THE    OLD    PIRATE    HEAD          217 

"I  imagine." 

She  looked  at  Clell  intently,  then  whispered. 
"You  must  not  try  this — going  in  the  deep  swamp, 
Messieur  le  Doctor.  Things  are  bad — bad — and  you 
could  not  find  your  trail,  anyway." 

"He  will  try  at  least."  I  indicated  my  angry 
young  friend  in  the  cypress,  now  sinking  and  twist 
ing  at  the  beginning  of  the  morass. 

She  laughed  again  softly.  "No,  he  will  not.  I 
have  stolen  your  boat." 

"Laurel" 

She  was  moving  away  from  me  as  if  fearing 
capture.  "So  that  you  can't  get  in.  It  must  not 
be — it  is  dangerous.  The  black  men,  they — they  are 
angry." 

"At  you  and  the  baron  ?" 

"At  every  one.  They  thought — well,  I  can  not  tell 
you.  Only  you  must  not  go.  I  followed  to  pre 
vent" — she  was  moving  away  and  called  back  in 
a  whisper.  "Do  not  tell  him,  dear  Doctor!  He  is 
different  from  you — he  is  not  a  reasonable  person." 

Clell  was  splashing  out  angrily  berating  the  ob 
structions  and  cutting  himself  on  the  cruel  bayonet 
edges  as  he  reached  the  shell  beach.  Laure  has 
tened  swiftly  back  to  me  and  took  my  hand. 

"Remember — you  are  my  friend — you  will  not 


218  JOHN    THE    FOOL 

tell  them!   You  will  not  hinder  us — it  is  our — my 
— last  chance,  dear  Doctor!  For  my  island !" 

Then  she  was  gone,  her  soft  step  on  the  shells 
lost  in  the  heavy  grind  of  dell's  boots  breaking 
through  the  jungle,  her  form  melting  in  the  star 
blur  over  the  still  lake.  I  stood  there,  sighed  and 
lighted  my  pipe.  The  matches  were  damp,  of  course, 
and  I  was  scratching  a  second  when  Clell  reached 
me. 

"It's  no  go.  I  suppose  I'm  not  a  good  swamper 
yet,  but  I'd  swear  this  was  the  place.  But  one  can't 
make  it  ten  yards  on  foot — it's  simply  bottomless. 
We'll  go  start  the  launch  and  run  along  shore." 

"U-um,"  I  mused,  and  lighted  another  match.  We 
went  along  the  ridge  in  the  starlight  and  presently 
my  friend  stopped. 

"Doctor  Dick,  the  boat's  gone !" 

"Amazing!" 

"Here's  where  we  left  her.  Here's  the  mark  of 
her  keel — she's  gone!" 

"By  jove!  Impossible!"  I  stared  down  at  that 
mark  in  the  shells. 

He  looked  at  me  in  some  suspicion ;  I  am  a  bad  ac 
tor.  "Doctor  Dick,  is  it  possible  you  stood  here 
and  they  could  steal  the  launch?" 


THE    OLD    PIRATE    HEAD          219 

"Confound  the  matches !"  I  was  busying  trying 
to  light  my  pipe. 

"Did  she  take  it — and  you  wouldn't  chase  her?" 

"My  dear  boy,  I  will  not  chase  a  woman  under 
any  circumstances.  At  my  age — " 

He  shut  me  up  angrily.  "Somehow,  you  take  it 
too  calmly.  Don't  you  realize  we're  marooned  on 
this  reef — a  half-mile  long  and  thirty  feet  wide — • 
the  lake  on  one  side,  the  swamp  on  the  other.  Not 
a  house  except  Papa  Prosper's — and  wouldn't  we 
look  like  fools  going  there  ?" 

"Undoubtedly.  But  that  is  just  where  we  shall 
go.  Papa  rises  at  four  for  his  early  coffee — it  is 
past  three  now.  We  shall  be  just  in  time  for  Papa's 
excellent  morning  coffee.  And  at  seven — breakfast 
— ah,  the  excellent  shrimp  fricassee  one  gets  at 
Papa's!" 

He  shook  his  fist  at  me.  "I  don't  understand  you. 
We  are  two  first-class  fools — and  Virgil  will  dis 
cover  it.  That's  what  hurts  me!" 

We  tramped  down  the  beach  in  the  warm  star 
light.  I  was  trying  to  solve  the  crisis  in  Laure's 
mystery  of  the  jungles.  Traitor  I  undoubtedly  was 
to  our  fellows,  to  the  Meadows  Land  Company  and 
my  own  pocketbook.  And  yet — somehow  I  wanted 


220  JOHN    THE    FOOL 

Laure  to  have  her  fling;  it  would  end  for  her  and 
her  fat  knight  soon  enough,  I  imagined.  Only, 
what  was  the  danger  from  which  she  would  shield 
us  to-night? 

Clell  stopped  once  and  stared  at  me.  "They 
know  we  are  trapped  on  this  side  of  the  island.  Do 
you  suppose  they  will  harm  the  dredge?" 

"She  will  fight  fair  now,"  I  retorted. 

"But  the  niggers?" 

"The  blacks  are  interested  in  but  one  thing — and 
that  is  the  reward  the  baron  has  promised  them 
for  digging  out  that  old  wreck.  At  least  I  think 
it  that  way.  Besides  there  is  Laure,  and  her  trick 
with  that  rifle  of  hers  is  marvelous.  She  will  not 
allow  them." 

"Then  what?"  he  queried.  "Why  maroon  us 
here?" 

"To  keep  your  fool  neck  out  of  trouble.  I  be 
lieve — on  my  honor — the  girl  is  now  fighting  for 
us — do  you  understand  that?" 

He  shook  his  head.  "To  save  Virgil's  machine," 
I  went  on.  "To  fight  fair,  despite  all  of  them. 
Even  to  lose  Isle  Bonne,  because — she'd  rather  lose 
her  island  than  lose  our  good  opinion.  There  is  one 
of  us,  you  see,  whom  she  loves !" 

"Doctor  Dick,"  he  retorted:    "Is  it  you,  or  I?" 


THE    OLD    PIRATE    HEAD          221 

"Play  fair,"  I  answered  beguilingly.  "You  must, 
you  know.  It's  in  the  compact — the  three  of  us. 
Now  let's  find  a  way  out  of  this  bad  hole.  We 
New  York  fellows  are  all  very  well  on  the  asphalt, 
but  we  ought  not  go  in  the  deep  swamp  and  ex 
pect  to  outwit  them.  I  see  it  now  perfectly.  You 
recall  that  I  was  reluctant — " 

He  cut  me  off  with  an  angry  whoop  up  at  Pros- 
per's  gallerie  which  we  could  make  out  whitely 
under  the  oaks.  Again  and  again  he  shouted,  and 
then  went  up  the  steps.  The  doors,  as  usual,  in 
this  innocent  land,  were  tight  shut  to  keep  out  the 
mosquitoes,  and  the  chimneys  wide  open  to  let  them 
in.  Not  a  window  glass  nor  a  screen  was  in  the 
mansion.  Clell  rattled  the  casing. 

Presently  out  came  Papa  Prosper's  head,  sleepily, 
and  then  with  amiable  surprise. 

"Ah,  messieur !  Me — I  hear  a  noise !" 

"We're  stuck  on  the  cheniere.  Some  of  your  peo 
ple  stole  our  boat." 

Papa  paddled  to  his  door  and  threw  the  great 
bars.  He  turned  up  his  dim  lamp  and  stood  scratch 
ing  his  head. 

"We  want  to  get  away — back  to  the  dredge," 
went  on  Clell  impatiently.  "Damn  it  all,  man — did 
— who  did  this?" 


222  JOHN    THE    FOOL 

"Ah,  dis  worl' ! — she  is  too  much.  Me — I  go 
fo'  nuttin'  lak  dat.  You'  boat,  he  get  stole?  Ah, 
what  infamy!" 

"Is  your  granddaughter — Laure? — is  she  here?" 

"Me — I  don't  know.  All  a-time  mademoiselle 
she  go  f  o'  honey  bees !" 

"Bees — nothing.   It's  almost  dawn." 

"Sho'  is.  Neve'  I  see  honey  bees  get  up  so  soon 
as  did  bees  on  Isle  Bonne!  Coffee,  m'sieurs? — she 
mak  dis  life." 

Clell  turned  away  and  stared  into  the  first  pink 
of  dawn  over  Isle  Bonne  woods.  Northward  the 
films  of  mist  showed  on  the  water.  The  mosquitoes 
were  singing  in  Papa  Prosper's  honeysuckle.  Papa 
himself  wras  busied  at  his  charcoal  stove  and  coffee 
dripper. 

We  two  sat  on  the  galleries  and  watched  the 
last  of  the  Drouillots  kneeling  lean-shaken  in  his 
pajamas  to  fan  his  charcoals.  His  fine  old  grizzled 
face  was  demure  as  a  maiden's.  Amiably  he  lit  a 
cigarette  and  sighed  up  at  us. 

"All  dis  worl',  she  have  mooch  trouble  except 
me,  messieurs.  Me — I  don't  go  fo'  nuttin'.  Coffee 
on  my  gallerie,  messieurs,  and  dat  breeze  off  my 
sweet  isle — all-a-time  livin'  jus'  lak  a  millionaire — 
me." 

We  sighed  also,  regarding  that  decadent  happy 


THE    OLD    PIRATE    HEAD          223 

gentleman  of  the  pirate's  line.  Never  would  he 
question  what  we  muddy  adventurers  were  doing 
on  his  shell  beach  in  darkness;  never  would  he  stir 
a  malevolent  suspicion  of  any  one  into  his  morning 
coffee.  Clell  sighed  again  and  scanned  the  unten- 
anted  lake  with  its  sunken  shores,  the  green  gray 
wall  of  forest  behind  us,  all  dawn-sweet  and  shot 
with  sun's  gold  through  its  cathedral  plumes  above 
the  mirrored  pools. 

And  while  we  wearily  sat  against  the  gallerie 
rail  and  waited  for  the  coals  to  heat,  there  came 
again  the  sound  of  an  explosion  in  the  heart  of 
Laure's  isle.  The  reverberations  reached  through 
the  still  glades  and  out  over  the  lakes  and  passes 
like  thunder  of  the  hurricane  month. 

"There!"  cried  Clell.  "Again!  I  tell  you,  Doc 
tor  Dick — we've  got  to  be  in  on  that — whatever 
they're  blowing  up!" 

Papa  Prosper  paddled  along,  stirring  his  thick  de- 
cotion.  "Whateve'  go  up,  she  must  come  down, 
messieurs.  All-a-time — all-a-time,  messieurs.  Cof 
fee  on  my  gallerie,  messieurs?  Coffee — dis  sweet 
mawnin' — just,  lak  a  millionaire." 

Ah,  happy  Prosper!  I  stirred  my  sugar  in,  and 
waited  for  something  to  come  down — just  lak  a 
millionaire. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

THE  TURN  OF  FORTUNE 

OVER  the  coffee  we  diligently  tried  to  ferret 
information  out  of  Papa  Prosper  as  to  doings 
in  the  deep  swamp.  We  learned,  for  our  pains,  that 
cucumbers  did  not  do  at  all  well  in  the  black  earth 
of  the  cheniere.  Papa  had  planted  one  in  1883, 
and  then  had  retired  to  his  galleries  to  reflect  upon 
the  vanity  of  government  seeds  and  the  worl'  in 
general.  "Me — I  write  my  good  friend,  M'sieu  Le 
Blanc,  who  is  in  dat  Congress.  I  say :  'What-all 
a-matter  with  yo'  government  ?  Is  it  no  f o'  nuttin  I 
plant  dem  seeds  on  my  island?'  I  say  to  my  good 
friend :  'Messieur  Le  Blanc,  some-a-time  yo'  see  dat 
Prasident  yo'  say  to  him:  "My  friend  Messieur 
Prosper  Drouillot,  he  say  yo'  seeds  not  so  much." 
Ah — me!"  sighed  Papa,  "dis  worl',  he  is  strange!" 
Clell  murmured  his  despair.  The  long  gray 
shadows  over  the  lake  shortened  until  the  sun 
glanced  down  with  mid-morning  splendor  into  Pros- 
per's  odorous  garden-pool  behind  the  house.  The 

224 


THE    TURN    OF    FORTUNE         225 

honey  bees  droned  away  into  the  forest  isles;  the 
tree-frog  sang  in  the  eaves  spout;  Papa  sat  on  his 
gallerie  and  waited  to  be  a  millionaire.  And  not  a 
sign  of  life  showed  over  the  swamp  lake,  nor  from 
the  flooded  woods;  the  silence  of  Isle  Bonne  might 
not  have  been  disturbed  for  a  century  for  all  ap 
pearances. 

"I'd  give  a  month's  pay  to  know  what  they're 
doing  back  there,"  Clell  muttered.  He  went  down 
the  shell  ridge  trying  to  discover  the  pirogue  trail 
by  which  Laure  entered  the  forest  It  was  not  even 
blazed;  a  novice  could  not  have  entered  a  hundred 
feet  without  being  bewildered  by  the  sunless  depths, 
the  tangle  of  fallen  trees  and  creepers,  the  cypress 
spikes,  the  giant  ferns  and  palmettos  growing  here, 
there,  on  rotted  logs  above  the  water. 

My  young  friend  came  back  impatiently  and 
stuck  his  wet  high  boots  up  on  Prosper's  gallerie 
rail.  "If  I  had  as  much  as  a  loose  log,  I'd  try  to 
paddle  around  the  island,  Doctor  Dick !" 

I  sleepily  dissuaded  him  from  such  folly  with  the 
heat  of  high  noon  nearing.  Out  of  his  thrilling  past 
Papa  dug  adventures  for  our  entertainment 

"My  cou't,  wan  time  she  sit  here,  m'sieu.  On 
dis  gallerie — so.  Beeg  yelleh  lady  from  Temple 
Chcniere  she  come  testify  in  my  cou't  Some  leetle 


226  JOHN   THE    FOOL 

dog,  he  got  stole.  All  dem  people  from  Temple 
Cheniere,  come  soon — soon  in  mawnin,  and  me — I 
have  to  get  out  and  mek  coffee  f o'  all  dem  witnesses. 
Dat  leetle  dog,  he  eat  some  too.  I  tie  dat  leetle 
dog  to  my  rain  barrel,  and  I  say  to  all  dem  wit 
nesses:  'Now,  what-a-matteh  ?  What  fo'  all  yo' 
come  and  mak  me  hold  dis  cou't?' 

"Beeg  yalleh  lady,  she  talk  soon — soon.  Odder 
lady,  she  talk  soon — soon.  Me — I  sit  here  and  I 
couldn't  get  no  fo'  nuttin  out  of  dat  Indian  gumbo 
dey  talk.  I  say:  'Lady,  all  about  dis  leetle  dog  in 
dat  kind  of  talk  dis  cou't,  he  can't  say/ 

"Beeg  yalleh  lady,  she  say:  'Ah,  Papa,  you  ol' 
son-of-a-gun — yo'  shut  up !' 

"M'sieu,  what  yo'  think  of  dat  beeg  yelleh  lady  ?" 

"I  hope,"  I  put  in  sympathetically,  "you  upheld 
the  dignity  of  the  court?" 

"I  sho'  did,  m'sieu.  I  say  to  dat  beeg  yelleh 
lady:  'So — so!  ^o'  talk  dat  way  to  dis  cou't?' 
Me — I  sho'  upheld  the  dignity  of  dis  cou't — I  tell 
dat  beeg  yelleh  lady  she  wan  son-of-a-gun,  too !" 

The  tree-frog  was  yelling  again,  and  the  court 
languidly  flicked  a  mosquito.  Justice  had  been  done, 
and  Papa  rolled  another  cigarette.  And  the  long 
broody  heat  of  the  south  coast  summer  day  was 
on  us.  Every  one  slept  on  Papa  Prosper's  gallerie, 


THE    TURN    OF   FORTUNE         227 

except  the  tree-frog.  I  drowsed  in  my  chair.  Clell, 
also,  had  settled  back  dead  tired  after  the  night's 
perplexities.  Papa  had  gone  entirely;  his  limp 
socked  foot  thrust  into  the  honeysuckle  masses. 
That  was  the  last  I  knew.  Then  came  oblivion.  I 
dreamed  that  the  Board  of  Directors  of  the  Prairie 
Meadows  Land  Company  was  sitting  about  its  ma 
hogany  table  as  a  High  Court  on  the  Beeg  Yalleh 
Lady,  and  that  I  and  the  Leetle  Dog  were  tied  to  the 
table  legs  as  material  witnesses.  The  High  Court 
decreed  that  the  three  of  us  were  to  be  consigned 
down,  down  through  endless  and  increasing  layers 
of  heat — down,  down,  through  blistering  caverns 
of  chaos  to  the  last  pit — Me  and  the  Dog  and  the 
Beeg  Yalleh  Lady;  and  then  suddenly  Virgil  Will 
iams  looked  over  the  rim  of  Hades,  threw  us  a 
line  and  yelled  that  it  wTas  his  business  to  pull  us 
back — personal  and  specified.  Which  he  did. 

And  I  started  up  with  a  gasp  to  find  the  two 
o'clock  sun  fair  on  my  head.  I  was  stung  and 
lathered  with  perspiration ;  and  sat  up,  still  gasping, 
to  stare  straight  at  Virgil  Williams  leaning  thought 
fully  against  the  gallerie  rail  looking  at  me.  Even 
in  my  amazement  I  noticed,  on  his  bronzed  lean 
face,  in  his  deep  worn  eyes,  a  great  soft  joy — a 
triumph. 


228  JOHN   THE   FOOL 

"You  see,"  he  began,  as  if  I  was  guessing  at  it — • 
"we  won!" 

"Won— man?" 

"Cou't.  Appeal  decided  for  us  on  all  points."  He 
came  across  the  gallerie  and  took  my  hands.  "Big 
— Doctor  Dick!  By  Mighty,  the  big  fight's  done! 
We'll  get  our  bonds  taken  up  now — we  can  slap  a 
quarter  of  a  million  dollars  into  the  work  in  thirty 
days.  I  got  busy  in  the  city — I  started  'em — those 
New  York  fel-los!  I  wired  for  the  new  machines 
to  come  a  jumpin' — three  new,  two-yard  dredges 
that  we  ordered  a  year  ago  and  couldn't  pay  for. 
And  the  men — Big  Jim's  in  the  city  bu'stin'  things 
open  on  the  levee.  In  thirty  days,  Doctor  Dick, 
you'll  see  Isle  Bonne  cut  to  the  sea !" 

I  was  on  my  feet  shaking  hands  again.  My  two 
companions  at  the  gallerie  end  were  still  at  their 
siesta.  Williams  had  hardly  noticed  them.  Never 
had  I  seen  him  so  exalted. 

"Six  years — stawms  and  failure  and  loneliness," 
he  said  and  his  high  smile  came.  "And  your  money, 
I  got  into  it,  Doctor  Dick — and  Mary's  and  all  of 
'em.  Neveh  hit  me  till  now  what  a  load  I  been 
carryin'."  He  wiped  his  brow,  and  his  level  glance 
went  to  the  wilderness  behind  us.  "  'MembeH 
what  I  told  you  once  when  I  showed  you  the  marsh  ? 


THE    TURN    OF    FORTUNE         229 

That  lone  settler's  shack — that  fel-lo  that  bought 
his  forty  acres,  and  took  one  look  at  it  and  then 
blowed  his  head  off?  And  in  his  shack  I  found 
the  little  baby  wagon  with  his  pink  side-winders  ?" 

"I  remember." 

"Yes,  seh.  Three  years  from  now  his  swamp  will 
be  a  gyarden,  and  the  black  soil  that  Old  Mississip' 
has  been  pouring  down  here  fo'  fifty  centuries 
off  the  best  of  the  whole  country — why,  from  here 
to  the  gulf  you'll  see  orange  trees  and  almonds, 
and  figs  and  truck  and  corn — and  little  homes  and 
shade  trees.  And  we'll  build  a  hotel  to  bring  the 
no'then  land-seekers  to,  and  in  it  we'll  put  that  little 
baby  cart  with  the  pink  side-winders  just  to  show 
'em — and  tell  'em  about  the  first  lone  martyr  who 
shot  himself  when  he  saw  what  he'd  bought — the 
sifted  son-of-a-gun!"  He  laughed  in  his  great 
pathos  for  the  other:  "But  no  one'll  ever  guess 
what  I  fought  through — personal  and  specified — 
to  make  a  gyarden  smile  out  of  this  wilderness!" 

"Well — well — "  I  stammered.  I  could  not  answer 
him;  his  triumph  was  too  splendid.  I  saw  a  very 
new  cabin  launch  out  at  the  edge  of  the  dazzling 
shells,  the  brightwork  on  her  with  the  glitter  of 
gold.  Some  one  was  under  the  awning,  but  I  could 
not  make  out.  I  turned  again  to  Virgil. 


230  JOHN    THE    FOOL 

"But  why  did  you  come  first  to  Isle  Bonne?" 

He  made  a  gesture  to  Prosper's  sleeping  form. 
"To  tell  'em!"  His  voice  lowered,  his  smile  deep 
ened.  "Papa — and  that  old  dog — the  baron.  And 
clean  their  shootin',  sneakin'  niggers  off  our  is 
land.  And  Laure — "  He  stopped  softly.  After 
the  silence,  he  sighed :  "Only  that  is  what  bothers 
me.  Laure — I  told  you  long  ago  I  loved  her,  Doc 
tor  Dick." 

I  nodded.  I  wondered  slowly,  how  he  loved  her. 
He,  the  silent  fighting  man,  watching  always  her 
fear  and  hatred  of  him  deepen,  it  seemed.  Never 
could  he  speak;  there  was  the  trust  that  others  had 
given  him,  there  were  the  pledges  he  had  made  at 
the  beginning.  The  man's  size  job — it  had  bulked 
between  him  and  her  always;  never  a  word  could 
he  speak  while  he  had  watched  the  other  man  at 
tracting  Laure's  fancy  with  his  graces. 

It  seemed  now  that  he  guessed  my  pity.  His  slow 
smile  came  again. 

"All  right.  The  big  fight's  done.  I'll  have 
to  tell  her  she's  lost — just  as  I  always  told  her. 
Just  like  I  pleaded  with  her  to  compromise  the  case 
years  ago  and  take  the  forty  thousand  we  offered. 
She  could  have  had  it  then,  but  now — well,  the 
company  withdrew  that  when  her  lawyers  fought 


THE    TURN    OF    FORTUNE          231 

'em  to  a  finish.  They  ransacked  all  the  old  records 
in  N'Awlyins  and  in  France,  too,  I  reckon,  tryin' 
to  find  the  old  Spanish  grants  that  they  said  gave 
it  to  Prosper's  line  of  the  family.  Prosper" — his 
benign  eye  fell  upon  Papa's  ear  sticking  out  from 
under  the  newspaper — "reckon  if  I  wake  him  up 
and  tell  him  the  news,  he'll  only  just  look  in  his 
seed  catalogue !" 

"And  you  came  here — to  tell  Laure — first?" 

"It's  only  square.  I — I — she  cain't  hate  me  al 
ways — if  she  sees  I'm  always  square.  She'd  never 
been  so  bitter  if  it  wasn't  for  the  baron — he  made 
her  hate  me.  Why,  the  old  rooster — I'll  ship  him 
cross-lots  to  Kingdom  Come  this  week.  I  got  a 
bunch  of  deputies  comin'  with  our  new  niggers — • 
gunmen,  too.  They'll  hunt  Crump  and  Hogjaw 
and  Doc  Fortune  off  Isle  Bonne  woods  in  a  week. 
I'll  be  too  busy." 

"I  think,"  I  murmured,  with  a  qualm  at  my  de 
ceit:  "they're  busy  also." 

He  laughed  softly.  "I  reckon.  The  baron's 
some  boy  f o'  treasueh !  He  can  have  it.  But  his 
niggers  got  to  go.  Big  Jim's  bringin'  five  depu 
ties — gun-toters  we  picked  up  and  had  deputized  fo* 
this.  Sheriff  said  neve'  mind  de-tails.  Only — 
Laure — "  he  mused  again.  "Well,  it's  got  to  be 


232  JOHN'  THE    FOOL 

done — we're  on  the  job  now.  I  can't  stop  fo' 
women."  Then  the  patient  pain  deepened  in  the 
lines  of  his  face:  "But  she — wondeh  what  she'd 
say  if  she  knew  that  I  was  the  one  men  called  the 
dreameh?" 

"She  is  awakening,"  I  retorted.  He  stared  at  me. 
Clell  was  rolling  over  on  his  gallerie  bench.  The 
boss'  eyes  were  on  him  as  he  sat  up. 

"Redfield — thought  I  left  you  at  the  machine?" 
Clell  came  to  him  quietly.    "It  was  my  fault.    I 
thought  there  was  something  going  on  in  the  island 
— something  that  put  her  in  danger.     So  I  per 
suaded  Doctor  Dick  to  come  and  try  to  get  in  with 
me,  and  they  stole  our  boat  and  marooned  us  here. 
It — it  was  for  her,"  he  finished  stubbornly  but  with 
out  malice,  and  it  was  the  longest  speech  he  had 
addressed  to  Williams  in  all  the  dispiriting  months. 
"You  see  I  don't  think  she'll  harm  the  machine. 
She  was  there — she  quite  gave  her  word." 
The  boss  looked  wonderingly.     "Yes?" 
"You  see,  she'll  play  right  now,"  went  on  Clell 
soberly.    "Doctor  Dick  has  sized  it  up — there's  one 
of  us  she  cares  for." 

The  Texan  did  not  answer.  But  I  put  in  lan 
guidly  :  "Me — undoubtedly.  You  see  I  am  the  one 


THE    TURN    OF    FORTUNE          233 

who  has  amused  her  mightly.  My  dear  chaps — 
you  lose." 

I  said  it  well.  They  stared  incredulously,  but 
mystified.  Then  the  Texan  shook  his  head: 
"Sho' — Doctor  Dick!  I  told  you  long  ago" — then 
he  stopped  and  looked  at  the  younger  man  patient 
ly:  "Well,  what's  the  use?  I  expaict  I've  no  call 
fo'  women.  She'll  hate  me  now — fo'  I  beat  her. 
Isle  Bonne  is  ours.  The  cou't  gave  us  every  point — • 
clean." 

"You  won?" 

"Yes — and  she'll  have  to  know.  The  Supreme 
Cou't  ended  it  fo'  her.  The  French  heirs  held 
the  real  titles.  Prosper  and  his  dad — and  his  grand 
dad  before  him — they  were  all  a  bunch  of  squat 
ters.  And  we  got  our  title  confirmed  abroad." 

Clell  was  silent.  Prosper  was  stirring  his  coffee 
upon  the  table. 

"You  heard  what  I  said,  Papa?"  the  Texan  con 
tinued.  "I  just  dropped  around  to  tell  you — you* 
lawyers  will  let  you  know  next." 

"Ah,  dem  lawyehs,  m'sieu!  All-a-time  I  tell 
Mademoiselle  Laure:  'Whaffor  dem  lawyehs?  Le 
Bon  Dieu — He  mek  dat  sun  shine,  and  our  leetle 
isle,  she  is  green  and  shady,  and  all-a-time  yo* 


234  JOHN    THE    FOOL 

honey  bees,  mademoiselle,  can  not  yo'  hear  yo'  honey 
bees?  Ah,  dat  worT — what  is  he  fo'  yo',  Laure? 
Wan  green  leetle  island,  he  is  yo's.' ' 

We  seemed  stilled  by  that  gentle  voice.  Pros- 
per's  languid  eyes  went  out  to  Laure's  wilderness. 
The  mirrored  day  lay  in  her  wondrous  lake.  The 
sky  was  flecked  by  tiny  scales  of  white  rimmed  with 
gold  drifting  up  from  the  gulf  as  they  might  have 
done  to  lure  her  buccaneer  ancestors  from  their 
lawless  trafficking  to  Isle  Bonne's  peaceful  shore. 

"But  I  tell  you,"  went  on  Virgil  slowly,  "that 
you've  lost." 

"M'sieu?"  Prosper  inquired  gently  still.  "How 
can  dat  be  ?" 

"The  court—" 

The  descendant  of  the  gentlemen  of  Carondelet's 
time  shrugged :  "All  dis  of  cou'ts — fou'ty  years 
now,  m'sieu,  have  I  heard  of  cou'ts — so  long  my 
grandfather's  cousin  in  Bordeaux  he  been  in  cou't 
fo'  Isle  Bonne.  All-a-time  I  say  to  Mademoiselle 
Laure:  'On  ou'  cool  gallerie  we  sit,  man  chere, 
and  watch  the  lilies  drift;  and  out  in  dat  worl' — 
Le  Bon  Dieu! — talk  and  talk  and  talk — dem  cou'ts ! 
always  it  was  so — I  expect,  mebbe,  it  go  on  fo' 
eveh,  but  what  has  it  to  do  with  you  and  me,  mon 
chere,  on  ou'  leetle  isle  ?'  " 


THE    TURN    OF    FORTUNE          235 

"But  it's  ended  now."  Virgil's  voice  was  low 
and  strong.  "Where  is  she?" 

Prosper's  old  grace  inclined  him  indifferently.  He 
took  a  pinch  of  snuff  and  searched  for  a  cigarette. 
"Her  leetle  isle,  m'sieu — somewhere  she  is  there. 
Me — I  no  go  fo'  nuttin'.  Isle  Bonne,  m'sieu — it 
loves  her,  and  every  mawnin'  it  call  and  call,  and 
every  mawnin'  Laure  she  go  singin'  into  her  forest." 

I  heard  Clell  mutter.  He  had  turned  away  and 
was  staring  at  the  launch  and  the  figure  in  it 
which  we  could  hardly  see  for  the  palmettos  of 
the  shell  beach. 

"Messieurs,  you  shall  have  the  coffee."  Papa  was 
moving  away  to  the  house  door. 

"No." 

"Ah,  yes.  One  does  not  come  to  Isle  Bonne,  mes 
sieurs,  and  not  of  our  coffee  take  wan  leetle  cup. 
A  match  to  dat  charcoal  furnace,  and  we  are  ready." 
And  in  the  door  he  rubbed  his  slender  hands.  "To 
Mademoiselle  Laure,  m'sieu,  you  address  all  dis 
about  cou'ts  and  lawyehs.  Me — I  no  so  much  lak 
dat." 

We  stood  looking  from  Papa's  gallerie.  Virgil 
sighed ;  his  exultance  had  gone.  Somehow  the  long 
shades  reached  from  Isle  Bonne's  plumed  oaks  to 
cross  his  spirit.  Then  he  muttered  patiently : 


236  JOHN   THE    FOOL 

"Laure,  she  cain't  hate  me  forever." 

Clell  turned  suddenly  to  him.  "If  she  ever  real 
izes  she  is  beaten,  she'll  go  with  the  baron — abroad." 

Virgil  started:  "Yes?" 

"So  they  declared.  I  don't  know  how — but  it — 
it  can't  be  that  way !  With  that  roaring  old  goat — 
without  money — with  nothing  but  his  old  sword 
and  his  appetite  for  beer.  It  would  be  ridiculous — 
monstrous !  That  child  of  the  island  woods !" 

"She  cain't — "  the  Texan  muttered,  and  stared 
at  Clell.  They  seemed  measuring  each  other's  will 
and  purpose.  In  the  silence  I  heard  Papa  shuffling 
about  his  bare  floor  for  his  coffee  things  again. 

"She  cain't,"  the  Texan  repeated.  "But  now — 
someway,  I  cain't  offer  her  any  money  as  a  compro 
mise — money,"  he  went  on  again — "that  wouldn't 
do.  It's  where  I  made  my  first  mistake — four  years 
ago.  I  didn't  know  her  then !" 

"No.  Not  if  you  thought  she  would  be  bought  off 
with  money." 

"Money?"  The  boss  looked  at  him  in  wonder 
that  grew  to  his  silent  pain.  "I  ain'  doin'  this  fo' 
money.  She  nev'  could  see."  His  lean  hand  mo 
tioned  to  the  cypress  isle.  "But  you,  Redfield,  I 
thought — "  and  he  was  dumb  again.  Always  they 
thought  him  the  money-grabber,  the  ditch-digger, 


THE    TURN    OF    FORTUNE          237 

no  one  could  get  away  from  that  to  sweep  the  far 
horizons  of  his  vision  which  he  had  no  language  to 
express.  "Well,"  he  added,  "I  expaict  we  ought  to 
go  now.  Only,  money — it  was  the  job  I  saw — the 
world's  work,  fightin'  back  the  jungle  on  one  side, 
and  the  sea  on  the  other.  Sho',  would  I  gone 
through  what  I  did  the  last  eight  years  f o'  money  ?" 
He  looked  at  me  with  his  old  pain,  and  then  his 
smile.  "I  expaict  from  the  first  I  loved  her."  He 
looked  quietly  at  the  younger  man.  "I  expaict  I 
did — in  my  ove'alls  and  jumper,  fightin'  the  main 
ditch  through.  And  she  was  lookin'  fo'  dukes  and 
knights — and  I  expaict  you  looked  mo'  like  one  than 
any  man  she'd  eve'  seen." 

The  other  man  was  still.  "Well,  you  had  your 
chance.  I've  kept  still  and  I've  played  square.  You 
didn't  think  it  of  me,  did  you?" 

"No."  He  watched  Clell  again  with  curious  wist- 
fulness.  "But  you  made  good.  Yes,  seh!  Damn 
you — I  was  just  tellin'  Mary — out  the'  in  the  new 
boat.  She  came — she  said  Doctor  Dick  sent  fo'  her. 
This  man's  game  seemed  to  bother  him  some." 

Mary!  We  stared  out  at  the  little  white  cruiser. 
I  had  not  supposed  she  would! 


CHAPTER  XV 

THE  GUARDIAN  OF  THE  MONSTER 

WE  hurried  down  the  hot  plank  wharf  to  the 
new  little  cabin  boat,  and  I  quite  upset  a  lan 
guid  young  town  darky  who  was  wiping  the  hatch 
way  hand-rails.  Clell  had  muttered  rebelliously ;  he 
was  furiously  feeling  he  had  been  tricked  someway 
or  other. 

"You  sent  for  her — and  never  told  me !"  he  said. 
"That  was  not  right.  And  what  did  you  tell  her  ?" 

"Nothing.  I  merely  wished  Mary  to  see — well,  as 
a  stockholder  in  this  corporation,  with  all  her  pre 
cious  money  involved — I  thought  she  had  a  right  to 
know.  Such  a  mixed  affair  as  we  have — business 
and — er — love,  and  all  that  kind  of  thing.  I  thought 
we  needed  expert  advice." 

He  glared  at  me — he  didn't  know  how  to  meet 
her. 

Mary,  gray-eyed,  calm  and  sufficient,  standing  in 
the  doorway,  was  laughing  with  old  friendliness. 

238 


THE  GUARDIAN  OF  THE  MONSTER    239 

Clell  stammered  a  rather  casual  greeting  as  he  took 
her  hand;  he  looked  at  me  again  as  if  he  doubted 
my  motives.  And  then  he  put  on  a  new  stern  air; 
and  I  saw  at  once  a  reaction  in  her.  Quite  amaze 
ment,  almost  unbelief,  in  fact,  that  her  young  man 
had  gone  so  far  from  her.  He  had  a  hardy  and 
rugged  initiative,  without  trace  of  resentment,  now, 
but  mere  distant  and  lofty  friendliness.  I,  too,  was 
astonished;  he  had  the  "mental  drop"  on  her  as  Vir 
gil  said  afterward. 

"Found  her  in  the  company's  office,"  the  latter 
explained.  "I  went  in  there  clean  discouraged — it 
was  before  I'd  heard  of  the  case.  And  there  was 
Mary  talking  to  young  Kenner,  askin'  how  she  could 
get  out  to  our  wilderness  with  the  big  news  she'd 
just  learned.  And  then  she  turned  on  me  and  said, 
quite  as  if  she'd  expaicted  me :  'Virgil,  we  won  the 
case!'  I  was  clean  foolish  fo'  a  moment — yes,  seh 
— winnin'  that  case,  and  Mary  tellin'  it  to  me  first !" 

"The  attorneys  had  just  got  their  wire,"  Mary 
explained,  "and  I  had  reached  New  Orleans  that 
morning.  Virgil,"  she  looked  at  the  gaunt  Texan, 
"I  never  saw  him  turn  pale  before." 

"Yes,  seh,  reckon  I  did.  Only  nobody  knows — 
well,  all  this — "  He  raised  his  hand  solemnly  to  the 
silence,  the  high  white  heat  of  sky  and  marsh  and 


240  JOHN    THE    FOOL 

water.  "They  told  me  eight  years  ago  I  couldn't 
do  it — and  I  said  I  could,  and  made  'em  trust  me. 
I  fought  it  here  and  in  Chicago  and  New  York,  and 
things  got  worse  year  by  year.  Then  this  lawsuit 
broke,  and  I  had  to  fight  that,  too;  and  find  the 
money  and  keep  the  machines  pushin'  on  and  the 
men  at  the  job.  If  I  told  you-all  how  many  times 
I  failed  you'd  not  believe."  He  smiled  patiently. 
"All  right,  the  peak  of  the  load  is  shifted.  Yeh  see 
the  money's  comin'  now — and  the  machines  and  men 
— started  before  I  left  N'Awlyns.  Mary,  I'm  glad 
you  didn't  come  sooner — it  would  have  been  fightin' 
bad  to  watch  us  here — losin' — losin',  day  by  day." 

"I  know,"  she  answered.  "Doctor  Dick  kept  writ 
ing  me." 

Clell  and  Virgil  both  looked  at  me.  I  had  been 
traitor  all  around.  Clell  was  still  nursing  his  hurt 
pride.  And  I  wondered  what  else  ?  Then,  in  a  mo 
ment,  Mary,  with  her  quick  way  of  sensing  things, 
spoke  what  we  each  were  thinking. 

"And  the  girl  and  her  island  ?    What  about  her  ?" 

We  were  still.  One  man  of  us  had  a  great  secret 
love  that  was  a  pathos  in  his  victory;  and  another 
had  a  romantic  infatuation  that  was  pity  and  chiv 
alry  combined;  and  I?  Well,  I  had  the  memory  of 
the  night  she  saved  our  lives  in  the  fire-filled  canal 


THE  GUARDIAN  OF  THE  MONSTER    241 

— and  of  the  time  she  hit  me  with  the  duck.  We 
were  still — it  hurt  us  all. 

"She  loses  everything,  I  suppose,"  Mary  went  on. 

"Yes,"  muttered  Clell,  "that's  the  abominable 
thing  about  it." 

"I  tried  to  make  her  see,"  Virgil  said  gently.  "I 
got  no  call  to  fight  a  woman — I  tried  to  explain  that 
years  ago.  I  tried  to  carry  her  side  of  the  load,  too. 
But  the  job  couldn't  wait  fo'  any  one.  You  see,  I 
had  to  think  of  folks  up  home — widda  women,  I 
knew,  and  people  that  had  bought  ou'  stock.  Bought 
company  stock  on  my  word — when  they  wouldn't 
take  the  company's.  So  I  had  to  win — only  Laure 
couldn't  see.  She  never  will  see." 

The  dogged  hopelessness  in  him  belied  his  smile. 

"Well,"  muttered  Clell  again.  "You'll  have  to  tell 
her  she's  lost.  I  couldn't  have  the  face  for  that !" 

Mary  looked  keenly  at  him.  I  noticed  now  that 
with  all  her  grooming,  that  clear  look  of  the  north 
that  spoke  her  strength  and  poise,  she  seemed  tired 
a  bit,  with  a  wistfulness,  as  if  her  coming  had  not 
been  all  that  she  had  dreamed.  Her  look  upon  Clell 
with  her  old  level  coolness  and  common  sense  be 
came  confused,  I  thought;  he  had  a  reserve,  a  sure- 
ness,  a  man's  rough  edge  about  him  now  that  was 
new  to  her,  and  perhaps  startling.  And  he  took  her 


242  JOHN   THE    FOOL 

presence,  after  his  first  surprise,  with  imperturbable 
complacence;  he  was  no  longer  the  appealing  lover 
of  a  self-satisfied  and  successful  city  woman  who 
could  stipulate  her  own  conditions  to  him.  She 
looked  at  me  suddenly  with  a  smile,  and  murmured : 

"Well,  from  what  I  hear,  it  is  a  pity!" 

"Somehow,"  I  retorted,  "I  refuse  to  be  sorry  for 
Laure  Drouillot.  I  don't  know  why.  Only  she 
seems  as  capable  in  her  world  as  you  do  in  yours, 
Mary.  As  for  her  wretched  island,  confound  it! 
I  shall  be  glad  to  see  it  drained  and  leveed,  and  cut 
up  and  raising  corn  and  truck — every  acre  of  it. 
So  will  she  some  day — she  is  a  cantankerous  child, 
now,  even  if  one  does,  er — like  her." 

"Like  her!"  cried  Mary.  "From  what  I  heard — 
from  what  Dick  wrote — " 

"Get  out!"  I  roared.  "She— well,  there  wasn't 
much  else  of  interest.  This  is  a  wretched  hole  for 
summering,  and  to  have  a  girl  with  a  piratical  an 
cestry  poking  about,  taking  a  pot  shot  at  you  now 
and  then — and  once  she  threw  at  me,  a  duck — " 

"Doctor  Dick,"  broke  in  Mary  patiently,  "whicH 
one  of  you  imagines  himself  the  most  in  love  with 
her?" 

"Tut— tut."  I  said.     Clell  grimaced,  and  Virgil 


THE  GUARDIAN  OF  THE  MONSTER    243 

was  busied  with  his  head-lines.  The  talk  was  dis 
tasteful  to  him;  and  Mary  felt  it  at  once. 

The  two  men  and  the  darky  were  getting  the 
boat  away,  despite  Papa  Prosper  who  was  paddling 
out  through  the  sun  with  more  of  his  inevitable  cof 
fee  for  the  lady.  Mary  leaned  to  me  as  the  motor 
began  its  humming  and  we  shot  around  out  of  the 
hot  cove  of  the  woods. 

"Doctor  Dick,  why  did  you  send  for  me  ?" 

"Your  young  man  was  liable  to  mess  things  up. 
Of  course,  after  all,  you  love  him — " 

She  gave  me  a  hard  look.  "Not  necessarily.  He 
is  perfectly  free." 

"Get  busy — get  busy,"  I  answered  dryly.  "You 
cool,  sane,  practical  modern  women  don't  know  how 
to  love  a  man.  If  you  did,  you  wouldn't  talk  of  him 
being  free.  If  you  have  any  primal  stuff — if  you 
are  anything  else  but  the  efficient  and  highly  com 
plex  and  invaluable  confidential  secretary  to  the 
head  of  the  Electric  Trust — why,  now,  be  it — use 
it !  Fight  with  it !  Nobody  else  cares  a  hang !" 

She  gave  another  withering  look  at  me  as  Clell 
came  aft — big,  bronzed,  complacent,  and  with 
healthy  and  detached  good  humor  began  to  trifle 
with  some  silver  danglet  hanging  to  her  hand-bag. 


244  JOHN    THE    FOOL 

There  was  no  suggestion  of  an  appealing  lover  about 
him  now — and  she  saw  it. 

"Mary  looks  very  fit,  doesn't  she,  Doctor  Dick," 
he  began,  "as  ripping  as  ever — good  looks  and  all." 
There  was  an  innocent  condescension  in  his  voice 
that  had  a  remarkable  effect  on  Mary.  She  got  up 
hastily  and  went  forward  to  stand  at  the  rail  and 
look  off  at  that  fantastic  isle  of  white  shells  and 
gray-green  jungle  with  the  purple  hyacinths  float 
ing  to  the  sea.  Then  she  turned  back  on  me  the 
second  look  of  anger  I  remembered  in  her  since  she 
was  a  child.  I  believe  she  thought  we  were  putting 
up  some  sort  of  game  on  her. 

Clell  looked  casually  after  her.  "Lordy,  what's 
the  matter  with  Mary?"  Then,  after  a  thought,  he 
turned  to  stare  at  Laure's  island.  "I  wonder  if  she 
is  in  any  sort  of  a  row — with  the  baron,  or  his 
niggers?  Well,  the  jig  is  up,  poor  kid — as  far  as 
the  land  goes.  And  Williams  has  his  last  chance 
now.  Then  I'm  free  of  him." 

He  still  kept  his  good-humored  look  upon  Mary, 
who  did  not  return  to  us  until  the  boat  had  turned 
into  the  main  canal  at  sunset.  There,  outside  the 
shoals  lay  a  dirty  steamboat  with  a  barge  in  tow, 
and  astern  of  this  a  long  quarter-boat  that  seemed 
alive  with  men. 


THE  GUARDIAN  OF  THE  MONSTER    245 

"Waitin'  f o'  the  tide !"  called  Virgil.  "Big  Jim 
sho'  moved  some.  We  passed  him  at  noon,  shovin' 
that  oil-burner  through.  That's  what  winnin' 
means!  We  had  fifty  thousand  dollars  on  call  an 
hour  after  that  cou't  decision.  Look  at  the  men — 
wops  this  time,  and  no  levee  niggers  to  be  scared  out 
by  hants  and  pirate  haids.  And  so  you  fel-los  let 
'em  voodoo  my  cook  ?  Sho',  I  have  a  passable  bad 
time  with  cooks !" 

He  was  cheerily  filled  with  the  new  order.  Big 
Jim  hailed  him  from  the  oil-barge.  In  the  quarter- 
boat  galley  fires  were  going,  and  men  stuck  their 
heads  out  to  wave  at  him — some  of  the  old  hands 
who  were  going  back  with  the  boss  and  knew  him. 
The  sight  of  it  all,  the  men  and  machines  and  the 
sense  of  power  lighting  Virgil's  eye,  made  my  heart 
throb — he  had  waited  so  long,  so  stubbornly  trusted 
himself  when  none  other  did.  Only  once,  when  he 
looked  off  at  the  blue  forest  isle,  I  saw  the  wince 
of  pain.  He  was  looking  at  me  and  the  battle-light 
died  for  a  moment,  and  then  lit  his  face  again. 

"They'll  get  in  on  the  flood,"  he  said,  "and  to 
morrow  you'll  see  things  begin  to  shape  up  at  the 
plant.  And  as  fo'  that  old  mud-hook  at  the  end  of 
the  ditch,  why  she'll  be  so  thick  with  mechanics  by 
seven  o'clock  that  you  cain't  see  her."  He  glanced 


246  JOHN    THE    FOOL 

at  a  gay  little  calendar  down  in  the  engine-room. 
"Twenty-eight  days  more  to  cinch  that  option  on 
the  Peterson  tract — but  sho' ! — who's  worryin'  about 
that  now,  when  we  got  the  Isle  Bonne  land  tied  up 
and  branded?"  Then  his  brow  contracted  after  this 
unwonted  exultation.  "Only,  the  hard  part — that's 
comin'  " — he  jerked  his  head  slowly  toward  the 
wooded  isle — "and  I  reckon  that's  on  me,  too." 

I  knew.  Mary  heard  him  and  she  nodded  at  me. 
Clell  was  watching  the  fleet  and  army  of  the  new 
invasion  of  Isle  Bonne.  "It's  queer,"  he  murmured, 
"what  just  a  scratch  on  a  piece  of  paper  will  do. 
And  two  or  three  moldy  old  justices  sitting  about 
a  table  in  some  room,  mumbling  away  together 
about  a  matter  they  never  saw  or  heard  or  felt  in 
person.  They  say  this,  and  right  away — Zing!  it 
loosens  up  a  half  million  dollars  away  up  in  New 
York,  and  down  here  in  the  swamps  two  hundred 
men  and  boats  and  barges  go  smashing  into  the 
job.  And — somewhere  in  there" — he,  too,  made 
a  gesture  toward  Laure's  isle — "they  smash  her  and 
her  dream  off  the  map.  What  can  she  understand  ?" 

Mary  still  was  wisely  silent  I,  too,  had  nothing 
to  say.  Glancing  at  Mary's  calm  profile  with  its 
clear  groomed  pallor,  which  was  of  health,  and 
yet  the  health  of  town  and  office,  and  not  the  sun- 


THE  GUARDIAN  OF  THE  MONSTER     247 

richened  content  of  the  outdoors,  I  had  an  idea 
that  every  instant  her  alert  intuition  was  reading 
both  of  those  men  quite  mercilessly.  And  their 
cross-purposes  and  their  problem. 

She  turned  to  me  at  her  side  presently.  "The 
wonderful  thing  is  how  they  regard  each  other — 
after  the  way  they  did  in  the  North !  That  is  splen 
did,  at  least — you  are  a  magician  in  that,  Doctor 
Dick!" 

"They  hammered  it  out  together.  Clell  didn't 
break — and  Virgil  knew  he  wouldn't.  That's  what 
I  call  the  fine  thing.  They  are  man  and  man  now. 
Only  right  in  Virgil's  triumph,  dell's  got  the  edge 
on  him  with  Laure,  and  that's  what  hurts.  She'll 
never  let  Virgil  care  for  her  now;  and  Clell  stands 
ready  to  throw  up  everything  to  help  her.  She's 
too  proud  and  high  to  listen  to  anything  from  Vir 
gil  about  her  island,  and  as  for  loving  him — " 

Mary  sat  up  straight:  "Oh,  bother!  Why 
shouldn't  she  ?" 

I  looked  at  Mary's  one-time  young  man.  "You 
can  see  for  yourself." 

I  may  have  been  putting  it  strong.  But  then  I 
loved  these  two,  and  I  had  wanted  them  to  love 
each  other  ever  since  they  sat  on  my  knee.  Mary 
needed  a  jolt;  she  always  had,  for  that  matter,  in 


248  JOHN    THE    FOOL 

the  matter  of  Clell.  As  he  himself  said,  she  had 
been  super-civilized.  He  had  asked  me  once  long 
ago  if  I  could  imagine  Mary  having  a  baby.  I 
could  not,  any  more  than  I  could  the  Amalgamated 
Electric. 

Mary  continued  to  watch  the  slant  of  the  rozo 
cane  overhanging  the  canal.  Above  it  the  blue  wall 
of  Isle  Bonne  woods  to  the  northward  grew  out 
against  the  hot  opal  of  the  sky.  Over  that  other 
wall  of  yellow-green  cane  came  the  breeze  off  the 
Mexican  Gulf.  Virgil  was  watching  first  one  way 
and  then  the  other.  I  knew  the  sad  triumphant 
vision  that  filled  him.  Along  that  outward  seaway 
his  miles  of  levee  would  arise,  behind  the  ramparts 
his  giant  pumps  would  hurl  off  the  alien  waters 
and  the  black  soil  ripen  in  the  sun,  until  he  saw  his 
happy  land  smiling  with  homes  and  gardens.  Only 
for  it  all  he  was  giving  up  his  love;  again  he  was 
called  on  to  step  aside  in  the  greater  thing. 

When  I  went  to  him  he  was  musing  over  the 
steering  wheel. 

"Yes,  seh,"  he  looked  at  me  patiently,  "that  little 
baby  buggy  with  the  pink  side-winders  sittin'  over 
the'  in  that  old  shack — now  I'm  goin'  to  get  it  and 
keep  it  in  out  of  the  damp — but  I  don't  know  fo' 
what.  Only  it'll  be  glad  to  know  we  won !" 


THE  GUARDIAN  OF  THE  MONSTER    249 

I  laughed  in  some  happy  despair  at  him.  The 
sun  went  down  incomparably  in  far-flung  masses 
of  cloud,  like  tattered  worlds  falling  to  the  west  as 
the  snug  little  boat  followed  the  last  shining  light 
of  the  canal.  She  came  out  upon  the  sprawled 
lame  monster  of  a  dredge  at  the  end  like  a  neat 
white  nurse  hurrying  to  succor  a  maimed  brawler. 
Virgil  was  out  on  the  greasy  deck  with  the  line 
first  of  all. 

"You  old  hook,"  he  cried  buoyantly,  "I  just  want 
to  see,"  and  then  he  stopped,  staring  up  in  the  twi 
light  at  the  great  derrick  which  swung  out  over  the 
saw-grass  with  the  clam-shell  bucket  hanging  be 
neath  it. 

"You?"  he  went  on  slowly;  "what  is  it?" 

Laure  was  in  the  craneman's  seat  looking  down 
silently.  I  saw,  among  the  iron  levers  and  chains, 
the  automatic  rifle  across  her  lap.  The  boss'  eye 
was  on  it  also. 

"See  here,"  he  said,  "what  is  this  fo'?" 

"I  just  came,"  she  answered,  her  small  alien  hands 
out  to  the  gear  of  his  beloved  beast,  "because — well, 
I  knew  no  one  was  here." 

"You  stole  our  boat  last  night,"  cried  Clell.  "Why 
that?" 

"I  didn't  want  you  to  go  in,"  she  said  faintly. 


250  JOHN    THE    FOOL 

"There  was  much — much — they  were  very  angry — 
the  men  we  had — " 

"And  you  came  here,"  put  in  Virgil  grimly,  "with 
your  little  gun  to  watch  to-night,  fo'  fear  they'd 
turn  a  trick  on  me  ?" 

"I — "  she  seemed  to  shrink  from  his  directness, 
"didn't  know.  There  was  a  fight,  you  see,  but  I 
didn't  want — I  wanted  it  fair,  you  know — after 
what  you  said  before  about  me." 

The  Texan  was  gazing  at  the  muzzle  of  the  little 
gun  in  wonder. 

"And  your  machine,"  she  went  on,  "I  wasn't  go 
ing  to  hurt  it,  m'sieu.  Only  to  hinder  you — delay 
you — keep  you  from  my  little  isle.  But  the  baron, 
he  waved  his  sword  and  said  always :  'Lawyers  and 
mud-diggers — never,  mademoiselle,  consider  them — 
no,  never — jamais — jamais!' '' 

"I  think,"  said  Virgil  dryly,  "you  had  better  get 
down." 

"I  can't,"  she  murmured.  "When  I  heard  your 
boat  coming,  I  tried  to  slip  down  and  to  my  pirogue 
— and  something  jerked  on  the  little  lever  when  I 
touched  it,  and  just  then  the  chain  went  across  my 
foot." 

She  was  not  allowed  to  finish.  Those  two  men 
were  forward  and  swinging  up  the  iron  ladder  to 


THE  GUARDIAN  OF  THE  MONSTER    251 

the  craneman's  roost.  Virgil  was  the  quicker.  His 
voice  trembled  when  he  touched  her. 

"Be  still,  there,"  he  ordered.  "The  rachet  wheel 
slipped.  The  cogs  on  that  reverse — well,  be  still." 
He  worked  silently  about  the  girl's  feet.  I  could 
see  her  staring  down  in  the  gloom. 

"It  hurts,"  she  said  presently,  "it's  tightening  on 
my  ankle." 

Clell  had  slipped  down  and  was  in  the  engine- 
room  to  get  a  wrench  at  Virgil's  command.  He 
whispered  to  me  in  the  murk  of  the  shed. 

"You  know  the  fix  she's  in?  There's  a  two-ton 
bucket  hanging  by  the  chain,  and  that  over  a  broken 
tooth  on  the  cog — the  thing  her  dynamite  smashed. 
If  it  drops  it'll  drag  her  down — smash  her  on  the 
gear  like  a  fly." 

He  was  gone  with  that,  tiptoeing  to  the  derrick 
ladder,  reaching  up.  Softly  the  two  men  worked 
without  a  word,  hardly  breathing.  If  she  knew 
death  touched  her,  hung  on  the  crumbling  point  of 
a  cog-tooth,  she  did  not  quiver.  She  leaned  over, 
her  dark  eyes  watching  Virgil  who  seemed  trying 
to  insert  a  steel  bar  in  the  links  of  a  chain  and  do 
it  all  as  delicately  as  one  would  tamper  with  an  in 
fernal  machine.  Once  the  smaller  chain  slipped,  the 
gear  shuddered ;  and  the  Texan  stopped  rigidly. 


252  JOHN   THE   FOOL 

"Be  still,"  he  breathed,  but  no  one  was  moving. 
Then  I  heard  him  mutter :  "You  little  thing — what 
did  you  come  here  for  ?" 

"I  wanted  to  be  sure.  There  was  no  one  here, 
you  see." 

And  I  grasped  that  she  had  stolen  out  of  the  isle 
to  look  after  his  black  monster,  to  see,  for  some 
reason,  that  no  harm  came  to  it  from  the  baron's 
renegades. 

She  finished  her  slow  murmur  to  him.  "I  thought 
it  wouldn't  be  fair,  if  they  did — in  spite  of  every 
thing,  you  see !" 

Then  he  also  understood.  He  even  paused  in  that 
grim  slow  work  that  meant  her  life  or  death.  "You 
see,"  he  went  on,  "I'd  thrust  my  right  arm  in  this 
cog — only  it  wouldn't  stop  anything  fo'  a  second." 

And  she  nodded.  "I've  been  watching  it  for  a 
long  time.  The  little  wheel,  there,  the  steel  kept 
crumbling  on  that  cog — I  could  just  see  it  while  the 
big  thing  swung  and  swung.  Then  it  stopped." 

We  saw  him  wipe  her  blood  from  the  back  of  his 
hand  across  his  brow;  and  she  stared  down  at  it. 
It  was  hurting  horribly,  the  slow  twist  of  even  that 
delayed  weight  across  her  foot.  And  then  Virgil 
had  worked  his  stout  bar  into  the  chain  link,  the  end 


THE  GUARDIAN  OF  THE  MONSTER     253 

of  it  through  a  step  of  the  ladder;  and  with  the 
other  end  across  his  shoulder  was  rising  from  the 
steps  below — rising  and  bending  his  back  under  the 
weight,  straining,  with  great  gasps  for  breath  until 
the  iron  rungs  were  buckling  under  him. 

Clell  had  come  below  him.  But  there  was  no  room 
for  two.  Again  it  was  a  man's  size  job — for  one. 
We  waited  in  that  dusk,  the  Texan  rising  power 
fully  under  his  short  lever,  and  the  girl  staring  down 
at  him,  her  hands  down  to  his  shoulders  by  her 
skirt.  In  that  stillness  we  heard  presently  a  mere 
clank.  Then  as  his  straining  breath  came  shorter, 
a  soft  jar — and  the  chain  had  slipped  back  safely 
upon  the  broken  tooth.  And  he  stood  up  looking 
at  her,  his  wide  gray  hat  off,  the  sweat  upon  the 
pallor  of  his  brow. 

"You  little  thing,"  he  muttered,  "you  neve'  knew, 
did  you?" 

"Yes,"  she  answered  simply,  "all  the  time.  When 
your  boat  touched  the  dredge  I  wondered  if  it  would 
jar  the  chain  off.  I  didn't  want  to  call.  I — I 
couldn't  call  you — I  just  wondered." 

"Wondered?  You  would  have  died  here  to-night 
— when  that  cog  crumbled  under  the  bucket's 
weight.  Do  you  know  ?" 


254  JOHN   THE    FOOL 

She  had  hopped  a  step  away  as  he  helped  her 
down.  Then,  quite  free  of  him,  she  put  a  hand  to 
the  engine-room  door  frame  and  laughed. 

"I  know.  And  I  wondered.  What  you-all  would 
say.  The  Yankees,  they  could  tell:  'No  mo'  she 
fight  us  fo'  the  little  isle.  The  big  machine  has 
killed  her.'  " 

The  boss  turned  from  the  place.  Her  blood  was 
on  his  hands,  and  he  wiped  it  across  the  derrick 
beam.  Mary  had  come  to  her. 

"You're  hurt,  my  dear — where?" 

The  mistress  of  the  isle  hopped  on  like  a  crip 
pled  bird.  "Not  much — my  foot  is  cut,  maybe.  In 
the  cypress,  once,  a  tree  blew  down  across  my  pi 
rogue,  and  I  slashed  my  way  out  with  my  knife. 
But  this — yes,  it  hurts — and  I  am  much  obliged." 

And  looking  at  us  and  then  the  Texan  in  some 
confusion,  she  repeated.  "I'm  very  much  obliged. 
I  wondered  what  it  was  like  up  there  to  sit  and 
swing  the  crane  and  watch  the  black  jaws  grind 
the  life  out  of  the  little  flowers  and  grasses.  So,  I 
only  touched  it — so — and  it  fell  and  caught  me." 

The  boss  was  looking  quietly  at  her;  she  would 
let  none  touch  her  bruised  foot — a  bit  of  her  old 
blithe  defiance  had  returned. 

"To-morrow,"  Virgil  muttered,  "you  come,  and 


THE  GUARDIAN  OF  THE  MONSTER     255 

you'll  see  it  work.  Outside — "  he  beckoned  down 
the  channel.  "Outside,  the's  a  hundred  men  and  two 
mo'  machines — the  canal  is  goin'  clean  to  the  sea. 
You — you  cain't  stop  us  now,  fo'  you  see — we 
won !" 

There  was  no  need  to  say  what  he  meant.  I 
could  see  her  white  face,  framed  by  the  dark  hair 
all  disarrayed,  set  mute  and  grave.  Then  quietly 
she  spoke,  but  as  if  considering  the  iron  repression 
in  his  voice  and  not  his  words. 

"You  understand,  don't  you?" 

"Oh,  yes.    You  mean  we  lost  our  island  ?" 

"We  won,"  he  went  on  steadily.  "I  told  you  long 
ago!" 

She  sat  quietly  back  upon  the  girder.  I  had 
thought  some  great  grief,  an  outcry  would  be  hers; 
or  a  passionate  rebellion  and  defiance  to  him,  the 
courts,  the  law  and  officers.  She  had  held  them  in 
contempt  so  long,  trusted  so  implicitly. 

"I  don't  believe  we  lost  our  island.  The  baron, 
always  he  say  we  can  not  lose  our  island.  M'sieu, 
you  are  much  mistaken." 

Virgil  turned  in  grim  despair  to  us.  "You  see 
that,  Doctor  Dick?" 

"Mademoiselle,  it's  very  true,"  I  began.  "The 
Supreme  Court — " 


256  JOHN    THE    FOOL 

"Oh,  damn  the  court!"  Clell  broke  in  hotly. 
"Can't  you  see  she's  hurt,  and  all  shaken  up  without 
this?  It  was  no  time  to  tell  her."  He  had  gone  to 
Laure,  but  she  held  him  off  with  a  gesture  that 
showed  all  of  us  she  wished  to  see  Virgil's  face 
clearly. 

"M'sieu,  you  have  nev'  been  a  very  bad  man  be- 
fo'."  She  dropped  back  gently  into  her  island  pa 
tois.  "Papa  Prosper,  at  the  first  he  like  yo' — always 
— always.  He  say:  'Dis  gentleman,  Laure,  neve' 
he  unkind  lak  a  cou't.'  And  I,  m'sieu,"  she  stopped, 
while  we  waited  for  her  to  go  on.  "Ah,  well,  my 
little  island!  Why  should  it  shine  in  the  sun  so? 
and  be  so  green,  and  with  the  shells  so  white  and 
with  the  lilies  drifting,  if  they  going  to  cut  it  up? 
Le  Bon  Dieu — neve'  fo'  that  He  make  things  beau 
tiful." 

"I  reckon  we  can  make  it  more  beautiful,"  the 
Texan  said  with  a  curious  humbleness,  "if  you'd 
only  believe  so." 

She  listened  with  rare  attentiveness.  Again  Mary 
wanted  to  bandage  that  limping  foot  of  hers  with 
the  hem  of  her  skirt,  and  again  Laure  refused;  and 
would  not  even  take  dell's  arm  to  her  little  green 
canoe  that  swung  alongside. 

"I  don't  believe,"  she  murmured.     "The  baron 


THE  GUARDIAN  OF  THE  MONSTER    257 

he  say — oh,  this  very  day,  he  say:  'La  Marquise, 
neve'  you  lose  you'  little  island.' ' 

"You've  lost,"  Virgil  said  gently.  "And  it's  as 
hard  fo'  me  as  when  you  began  the  fight.  Only 
you'd  neve'  let  me  say  so.  Only  you  couldn't  see !" 

She  looked  at  him  in  some  confused  respect  that 
I  could  not  fathom.  And  as  she  moved  away  she 
repeated  in  her  quaint  sincerity : 

"To  you,  m'sieu,  I  am  very  much  obliged.  Fo' 
saving  my  life.  That  was  very  fine.  But  me — I'm 
going  now.  Away." 

"Away?" 

"To  Messieur  le  Baron.  Always  I  trust  him 
most.  Neve'  he  care  for  money.  Always,  he  say, 
does  Messieur  le  Baron.  'Fo'  fair  ladies  I  fight 
with  my  long  sword,  mademoiselle — but  neve'  fo' 
money  as  Yankees  do.'  Like  a  knight — only  he  so 
fat." 

"He  would  fight  for  his  beer,"  I  murmured,  "as 
any  proper  knight  would  do."  But  she  did  not  hear 
me,  and  went  down  into  her  little  green  pirogue, 
and  sent  it  off  in  the  star-dusted  canal  between  the 
shadowy  cane  masses.  We  were  left  staring  after 
her  in  some  helplessness;  and  when  her  clear  voice 
came  again  out  of  the  dusk  we  had  no  answer. 

"Fo'  my  life,  m'sieu — I  very  much  obliged." 


CHAPTER  XVI 

THE  BIG  HIDE-UP 

I  WAS  awakened  the  next  morning  in  the  grimy 
little  bunk-house  on  Williams'  dredge  by  the 
grind  of  some  heavier  body  against  her  timbers,  and 
then  the  scuffle  of  feet,  cries  and  orders.  Clell,  who 
had  a  bed  across  from  me  was  already  out  from  his 
mosquito  bar,  and  when  I  went  to  the  work-deck  I 
discovered  that  the  steamboat  was  alongside  with 
the  oil-barge,  and  that  men  were  already  swarming 
off  with  a  staging  to  unload  the  stuff  for  the  repair 
of  Williams'  machine.  The  Texan  himself  stood 
watching  the  operations,  and  Big  Jim,  acting  mate, 
was  cursing  the  crew  in  right  true  levee  style. 

Virgil  raised  his  hand:  "Jim,  you  fo'get  the's  a 
laidy  in  our  cabin  boat — and  she's  just  twenty  yards 
fo'ward.  A  man  could  sho'  hear  you  cuss  a  mile 
away.  And  a  laidy  like  Mary — I  expaict  two  miles." 

Big  Jim  grinned  and  at  once  evolved  a  sulphuric 
pantomime  for  his  wops.  The  skilled  mechanics 
were  already  looking  over  the  wreck  of  the  hoisting 

258 


THE    BIG   HIDE-UP  259 

gear.  "I  reckon  it's  no  place  fo'  laidies,"  went  on 
the  boss.  "Last  night  I  had  to  pry  one  out  of  that 
reverse  chain."  Then  he  saw  me.  "And  I  wondeh 
how  that  little  foot  is  this  mawnin'?" 

He  had  the  light  of  new  battle  in  his  tired  eyes. 
"Yes,  seh !  It's  big.  Sorry  to  rout  yo'  out  so  early, 
Docteh  Dick — but  the  man's  size  job  is  under  way 
again.  We'll  blow  and  worm  a  way  to  salt  wateh 
now,  and  no  little  old  sorry  ghosts  can  worry  this 
bunch." 

But  one  little  ghost  on  the  green  isle  surely  wor 
ried  him.  His  gray  eyes  leveled  to  the  woods  across 
the  sun-flecked  marsh.  And  his  patient  regret  came 
into  the  voice :  "All  right — I  know  what  you'  think- 
in'.  I'll  fix  that  up,  too,  someway." 

And  then  after  a  pause :  "I  reckon  I  muddled  it 
up  fo'  fair,  tellin'  her  that-a-way.  Only  I  have  no 
other  way."  Then  he  was  back  seriously  directing 
the  placement  of  his  new  gear. 

Clell  was  forward  checking  off  the  stuff  as  it  came 
over  the  staging.  It  was  a  white  hot  morning,  the 
gulf  breeze  stilled;  and  the  black  gnats  danced 
through  the  engine-room  and  stung  the  sweating 
fellows.  I  was  turning  aft  to  see  what  the  new 
cook  had  done  about  breakfast,  as  the  boss'  outfit 
seemed  to  consider  me  no  further,  when  I  saw  Mary 


26o  JOHN    THE    FOOL 

signaling  to  me  from  the  awninged  shade  of  Virgil's 
smart  little  cabin  cruiser.  "Went  and  stuck  two 
thousand  dollars  into  that  tub  soon  as  I  heard  we'd 
won,"  he  had  told  me.  "I  couldn't  have  Mary  corn- 
in'  down  to  our  swamp  in  that  old  Zelie." 

Mary  Mason  looked  very  comfortable  in  her  blue- 
trimmed  sailor  blouse.  The  breakfast  things  were 
laid  on  a  neat  white  table,  and  she  had  drawn  some 
purple  hyacinth  spikes  from  the  canal  to  set  it  off. 
Down  in  the  galley  a  yellow  boy  was  busied  with 
coffee  and  bacon.  It  was  the  first  thing  like  a  really 
civilized  meal  I  had  seen  in  five  months. 

"It's  like  Virgil,  isn't  it?"  she  said.  "The  minute 
I  met  him  he  began  to  see  to  me — and  yet  he  hasn't 
spent  a  moment  from  his  work,  it  seems.  It's  queer 
the  way  the  men  all  jump  about  for  him — he  gets 
things  going,  somehow." 

"Most  things,"  I  murmured,  and  sampled  her 
pineapple. 

She  smiled  in  a  rather  wan  fashion.  I  don't  be 
lieve  she  had  slept  well;  perhaps  one  wouldn't  trans 
lated  overnight  from  the  Amalgamated  Electric  to 
the  savage  morasses  of  John-the-Fool.  "Did  you 
ever  hear  such  frightful  noises?"  she  went  on. 
"Mosquitoes  on  the  screens  and  the  boom  of  those 


THE    BIG    HIDE-UP  261 

frogs  and  an  alligator  or  so,  and  the  awful  owls. 
I  thought  the  wilderness  was  quiet." 

"Ah,  the  wilderness!  Somehow,  we've  come  to 
love  it  all." 

"Yes,"  she  said  absently,  and  looked  across  the 
canal  to  where  the  clatter  of  hammers  and  the  bang 
ing  of  metal,  and  the  drift  of  soot  down  on  our 
white  spread  told  of  the  new  attack  on  the  man's 
size  job.  "Love  it?"  She  was  curiously  intent  on 
the  bronzed  fellow  who  supervised  the  job  forward. 
"Clell  is  so— changed!" 

"Wasn't  that  what  was  wanted?  He's  proved 
himself  a  man.  Not  a  whimper,  not  a  false  note. 
Of  course  you  couldn't  expect  him  to  love  Virgil." 

"But  that  wasn't  what  I  meant.    I  thought  he — " 

"You  thought  he  would  still  be  tagging  at  your 
skirts."  I  went  on  attacking  the  eggs  and  bacon. 
"Well,  you  see  a  new  man,  don't  you?  He's  got 
some  of  Virgil's  stuff,  despite  himself.  The  wilder 
ness — and  Laure." 

"The  wilderness,  dear  Doctor  Dick,"  she  went  on 
quite  humbly,  "was  up  there — with  me.  I  thought 
I  could  forget  more — easily."  She  added  with  some 
rising  indignation.  "You  and  Clell  are  both  abomi 
nable  !  Virgil,  of  course,  is  his  own  dear,  grim  self 


262  JOHN   THE    FOOL 

— a  pure  sentimentalist,  pathetically  in  love,  at  last, 
with  this  island  girl." 

"And  she  with  your  young  man  who  is  chival 
rously  attracted,"  I  said  with  brutal  expediency. 

"Virgil  moons  and  moons — when  he  ought  to 
steal  her!" 

"Mary,"  I  retorted,  "you  are  an  utter  barbarian ! 
Imagine  any  one  stealing  you!" 

"Ah,  if  one  could!  It  must  be  splendid.  It 
wouldn't  be  business — but  what  fun !" 

"See  here,  this  will  never  do.  This  absurd  island 
is  bother  enough  as  it  is.  The  baron  has  medieval- 
ized  everything  and  every  one  except  Virgil.  And 
Papa  Prosper.  He  waves  his  rooster  cap,  and  at 
once  Laure  imagines  she  will  marry  a  duke,  and 
Clell  imagines  he  loves  her,  and  the  swamp  niggers 
believe  in  a  buried  treasure  ship,  and  Mangy  sees  a 
ghost-head  sticking  out  of  the  grass.  And  I — the 
practical  person — ah,  me!  One  time  I  kissed  her!" 

"What!" 

"It  was  part  of  her  education." 

"Indeed  ?"  Mary  mused. 

"And  Clell  is  crazy  about  her.  It's  his  chivalrous 
idea  about  her  wrongs.  And  she's  extraordinarily 
good-looking." 

"Yes?"  continued  Mary. 


It  was  like  a  bit  of  pageant 


THE    BIG    HIDE-UP  263 

"I  saw  her  once  do  a  dance  in  a  rare  old  gown 
she  had  before  it  was  dynamited  one  night  with  me 
in  the  canal.  It  was  an  evening  when  the  baron 
had  roared  quite  valiantly  over  his  third  bottle,  after 
Allesjandro  had  played  all  the  Rigolctto  music,  and 
had  demanded  of  Laure  that  she  show  the  bald- 
headed  doctor  what  a  great  lady  she  could  be.  So 
she  did  some  sort  of  a  Creole  dance,  and  I  swear  it 
was  like  a  big  pageant — the  smoky  old  rafters  of  his 
shack,  hung  with  red  peppers  and  dried  things,  the 
old  fellow  in  his  red  robe  and  with  his  pipe  and 
sword  and  feather." 

"Doctor  Dick,"  said  Mary  absently,  "you'd  better 
go  north." 

I  was  trying  to  shake  Mary  up  out  of  her  hyper- 
civilized  complacence  about  love  and  all  that  sort  of 
thing.  It  was  all  right  for  me,  but  in  Mary  ?  I  went 
on  with  praise  of  Laure  Drouillot;  but  Mary  seemed 
disinterested.  Clell  and  Virgil  came  on  the  Seabird 
for  lunch  despite  their  grim  intent  on  the  dredge 
boat  and  its  mechanics. 

And  while  we  were  at  it,  a  grotesque  figure 
pushed  its  way  out  of  the  saw-grass  by  the  boat's 
rail. 

"Done  come!"  it  quavered,  and  we  saw  it  was 
Mangy!  He  splashed  out  of  that  noon  heat  gasp- 


264  JOHN    THE    FOOL 

ing,  rolling  his  eyes.  "Dey  done  use  me  mean, 
Docteh!  Yes,  seh.  Ah  come  back  fo'  mah  job. 
Dem  old  pirate  haids — dey  ain't  nuffin  but  ha'd 
work!" 

We  got  that  disillusioned  and  emaciated  cook 
on  board.  He  was  a  sight  after  that  half-day  fight 
ing  his  way  a  mile  through  the  morasses  of  John- 
the-Fool  to  the  canal.  Williams'  immaculate  yel 
low  boy  from  N'Awlyins  eyed  the  mud  that  dripped 
from  him  on  the  clean  white  deck  with  vast  dis 
favor.  Mangy  hastened  to  grasp  my  hand  and  dis 
tributed  more  upon  it — and  me. 

Then  his  eyes  rolled  mysteriously:  "Dey  done 
got  it!" 

"Got  what?"  Cell  said  sharply. 

"Dat  big  hide-up.  Eve'  since  Crump,  dat  bad 
niggeh,  gave  me  er  sign  to  quit  you,  dey  had  me 
diggin'.  Dey  made  me  wu'k  all  night — dey  lammed 
me  wid  pistols,  and  dis  mawnin'  I  got  out — but  I 
seen  'em — yes,  seh !" 

"What  did  you  leave  us  for  ?" 

"Ah  got  mah  sign — dat's  it.  Crump  and  Hogjaw 
dey  put  dat  mark  on  yo'  drudge.  Dat  ol'  pirate 
voodoo,  it  chase  all  Marse  Virgil's  niggehs  when 
they  see  it.  Anyhow,  dey'd  killed  me  sho',  if  Ah 
hadn't  done  come  in.  Dey  showed  me  de  haid — Ol' 


THE    BIG    HIDE-UP  265 

Armand  Drouillot's  haid.  Sho'  did.  So  I  had  to 
come  in  to  dem,  and  Crump  he  beat  me  up." 

We  looked  at  that  lamentable  cook  in  stupefied 
amazement.  He  looked  back  in  the  dim  water-aisles 
of  John-the-Fool  in  terror  that  was  actually  hu 
morous.  And  our  northern  Mary  regarded  him 
standing  there,  holding  his  rag  of  a  hat,  and  with 
not  so  much  shirt  on  him  as  would  clean  out  my 
pipe  bowl,  with  the  look  of  one  who  has  discovered 
something  new  in  comic  opera. 

"Did  you  suppose  such  people  existed  ?"  she  mur 
mured. 

Virgil  sat  down  on  the  cushions,  and  motioned  to 
the  yellow  boy.  "Get  him  something  to  eat — and 
rummage  a  shirt  if  you  can."  Then  he  turned  to 
Mangy:  "Now  tell  us  something  we  can  under 
stand — start  at  the  beginnin'." 

Mangy  rubbed  his  black  paws  and  licked  his 
chops.  Then  he  rubbed  the  welts  on  his  woolly  skull 
where  the  renegades  had  mauled  him.  "Dey  used  to 
skun  outen  de  swamp  and  up  to  mah  window  on 
dat  drudge,  an'  leave  de  signs.  Sometimes  Ah  find 
er  little  bone  on  mah  bed,  er  a  piece  o'  bresh  on  de 
kitchen  flo'.  Sometime  er  piece  o'  paper  tacked  on 
de  wall.  Dey  put  de  sign  on  it." 

"What  sign?" 


266  JOHN    THE    FOOL 

Mangy  swallowed  helplessly.  "Oh,  sho' — white 
folks  neve'  unnerstand !  Me — Ah'm  er  swamp  nig- 
geh,  an'  Ah  unnerstand.  Ah  neve'  say  nuffin  to  yo', 
Marse  Virgil.  Den  de  las'  night  dey  show  me  de 
haid,  and  Ah  surrendeh.  Ah  come  in  and  ast  'em 
whaffor?  What  yo'  want  wid  me?  And  dey  mek 
me  dig  in  dat  ol'  slave  ship — yes,  seh!  And  dey 
got  it!" 

"Got  what?"  said  Clell  impatiently. 

"De  hide-up.  What  dat  ol'  baron  he  been  hang- 
in'  eround  fo' — an'  a  scoutin'  an'  a  plunderin'  in  de 
swamp  fo'  fo'  years." 

"The  baron !  He  got  it — and  what  was  it  ?" 

"Ah  dunno.  Dey  keep  me  and  Hogjaw  at  de 
pump  all  night,  an'  dey  blow  de  shells  out  o'  dat  ol' 
slave  ship.  And  de  baron  sit  dere  on  his  luggah 
and  watch  wid  a  gun.  And  Allesjandro  he  watch 
wid  a  gun.  Crump  and  Doc  Fortune,  dey  dig  and 
hist,  and  dig  and  hist  in  dat  old  ship  cabin,  and  dey 
get  de  hide-up  on  dat  luggah  dis  mawnin'.  Dat  girl 
she  sit  watchin',  all  a-time  watchin'.  Dey  knew  yo' 
men  was  close  and  dey  ready  to  shoot  all  right  if 
anybody  come  plunderin'  'round." 

"Can  you  beat  it  ?"  murmured  Clell.  "And  Laure 
in  with  them?" 


THE    BIG    HIDE-UP  267 

"But  what  on  earth  did  they  get?"  Mary  said  in 
terestedly. 

"Dat  ol'  baron,  he  know!  He  been  one  of  dem 
— ol'  Armand's  men — dat  used  to  smuggle  niggehs 
in  fo'  de  wah.  He  done  come  back  'ca'se  he  know!" 

All  the  baron's  former  moonings  about  Isle 
Bonne's  mystic  treasure  came  back  to  me ;  the  folly 
with  which  he  had  filled  Laure's  mind.  I,  too,  was 
muttering :  "What  on  earth  did  they  get  ?" 

"Gold?"putinClell. 

Mangy  rolled  his  gaunt  eyes.  "Ah  dunno.  Didn't 
let  me  see." 

"Go  on,"  continued  Virgil  patiently.  "Then 
what?" 

"Dey  hist  a  big  trunk  on  dat  Manilaman's  luggah. 
Den  dey  show  me  de  haid.  Sho' — it  was  a  haid 
made  outen  an  old  stump  all  painted  up  with  eyes 
like  saucers  starin'  so.  Dey  used  to  snuck  up  and 
show  dat  to  de  niggehs  and  dey  scar'  'em  outen  de 
swamp." 

"But  the  hide-up,  Mangy — go  on  about  it." 

Mangy  wiped  his  lank  jaw.  He  had  been  beaten 
with  the  butt  of  a  gun  and  was  half  starved  besides. 

"Go  on,"  commanded  Virgil.  "When  you're 
through  you  can  go  in  the  galley  and  eat.  And  work 


c68  JOHN    THE    FOOL 

to-morrow.  I  ought  to  fire  you,  but  I  won't.  This 
is  mighty  inter-estin'." 

"Well,  Marse  Virgil,  dey  done  gwine  away  wid 
dat  hide-up." 

"Away?" 

"Dey  had  a  fight  afteh  dey  blowed  up  dat  old 
hulk  and  got  dat  box  on  boa'd.  Done  had  a  big 
fight — dem  niggers  and  de  Manilaman.  I  skun  out 
in  de  swamp  so  dey  couldn't  fight  me,  and  when 
I  saw  las'  dey  was  polin'  de  luggah  out  Bayou 
L'Ourse  fo'  de  lake." 

Virgil's  chair  came  down  interestedly.  "Yes — 
who  was  on  board  ?" 

"Dat  baron  and  Prosper's  girl  and  Allesjandro, 
all  I  see." 

The  boss  straightened  up  and  looked  across  at  his 
swarm  of  busy  mechanics  on  the  dredge  boat.  Afar 
up  the  canal  came  the  whistle  of  the  tow  steamer 
moving  the  stuff  in  for  the  new  invasion  of  the  Isle 
Bonne  swamps.  But  the  eyes  were  fixed  northward 
to  the  forest  wall. 

"Coin'?"  he  muttered.    "The  baron— and  her?" 

Then  with  a  motion  he  sent  the  forlorn  cook  to 
the  galley.  He  turned  to  Mary  seriously.  "If  yo' 
was  as  plumb  crazy  about  any  one  as  I  am  would 
you  chase  after  'em,  and  commit  crimes  fo'  'em?" 


THE  BIG  HIDE-UP  269 

"I  would,"  announced  Mary,  "as  sure  as  can  be!" 

"Yes?" 

"High  crimes  and  misdemeanors !" 

"That  don't  sound  like  you,  Mary,  and  I  knew 
you  since  you  was  knee-high  to  a  grasshopper  back 
in  the  short-grass  country." 

She  pulled  her  wide  Panama  more  over  her  eyes 
and  turned  to  him  with  decision.  "Oh,  I  know! 
Doctor  Dick  doesn't  think  it  in  me  either.  But  I 
tell  you  now,  Virgil,  if  you  love  that  girl  you  must 
stop  her." 

"She  sho'  hates  me  enough  now." 

"She  loves  you." 

Just  then  the  dredge  engines  which  had  been  idle 
all  these  hot  and  heartbreaking  months  started  up 
with  a  fearful  clatter  of  chains  and  drums,  for  Big 
Jim's  try-out.  One  could  not  hear  a  thing.  But 
Virgil  was  staring  at  Mary. 

"What's  that!" 

"I  say  she  loves  you." 

The  Texan  suddenly  made  a  motion  to  the  en 
gineer  across  the  narrow  channel  from  our  deck. 
Then  he  called : 

"Seh !  Stop  that  machine !" 

The  long  crane  ceased  its  swing,  and  the  big  clam 
shell  closed  its  jaws  on  the  empty  air  above  the  saw- 


270  JOHN    THE    FOOL 

grass.  The  boss  turned  to  Mary  once  more,  and 
his  own  jaws  set  more  grimly. 

"See  here,  I'm  stoppin'  the  job  just  at  the  jump- 
off  I've  waited  six  years  fo'.  Stoppin'  it  just  to 
hear  you,  Mary.  Say  that  again !" 

"She  loves  you." 

Clell  was  listening  distantly  from  the  stern  seat 
cushions.  Virgil  had  taken  Mary's  arm ;  I  think  he 
was  closing  on  it  rather  tightly. 

"If  I  thought  so,  I'd  tear  this  swamp  wide  open. 
Neve'  saw  a  chance — neve'  saw  a  sign  of  it." 

"Oh,  you  foolish  man — there  are  a  dozen !  I  tell 
you  what  you  must  do  now — you  must  steal  her — 
to-day — this  very  night,  and  make  her  tell  it." 

Across  from  us  the  grimy- faced  men  were  stand 
ing  about  expectantly. 

"What's  the  matter,  there — man?"  called  Big  Jim 
impatiently.  The  boss  did  not  see  or  hear  him, 
apparently. 

"Come  on,  now,"  went  on  Mary's  cool  voice. 
"Crimes  and  misdemeanors.  I — I'm  with  you, 
Virgil." 

"Mary !"  I  exclaimed. 

"Doctor  Dick,"  she  answered  firmly,  "you've 
known  me  twenty-seven  years,  and  Clell  for  ten,  and 
neither  of  you  ever  suspected  me  of  having  any  red 


THE    BIG    HIDE-UP  271 

blood.  Her  piratical  ancestors  ?  Why,  who  knows  ? 
— I,  too,  may  have  been  bred  from  the  buccaneers?" 

My  young  man  under  the  stern  awnings,  was  lis 
tening  with  new  vast  attention.  She  gave  him  as 
barbaric  a  glance  as  any  five-thousand-a-year-em- 
ployee  of  a  corporation  can — and  he  smoked  away 
with  composure.  Mary's  new  young  man — ah,  me ! 
Somehow  I  had  a  sudden  idea  that  Mary  had  fallen 
madly  in  love  with  this  new,  bronzed,  hard-handed 
and  swaggering  young  man  of  the  outdoors.  Now, 
— of  course,  it  was  plain  why  she  wanted  Laure 
Drouillot  kidnaped  and  safely  out  of  the  way! 

"Extraordinary!"  I  gasped  to  myself.  "Just  like 
Mary — committing  her  crimes  in  a  wholly  cool,  effi 
cient  and  common-sense  manner !"  Then  I  sighed : 
"Ah,  the  times,  ah,  the  manners!  Where  are  our 
pirates  of  yesterday  ?" 

But  she  was  turning  to  Virgil  with  intentness. 

"Of  course  she'll  flare  up,  and  all  that.  But  Vir 
gil,  come  on,  now — must  I  expound  it  to  you  ?  Can't 
you  see  she  loves  you  ?" 

"Hold  on,"  he  muttered,  "somethin's  goin'  to  blow 
up  on  this  mud-hook  in  a  minute,  if  the  pressure 
isn't  relieved !  Yes,  seh,  tell  me !" 

"She's  afraid  of  herself  when  she's  with  you. 
You  had  her  beaten  long  ago — and  never  knew  it. 


272  JOHN    THE    FOOL 

She  risks  her  life  for  your  gamble  here — but  she 
won't  give  in,  never — never!  And  still  she  knows 
you  care  for  her — that's  the  woman  in  it.  Oh,  I 
know — we  can't  say  the  word  when  they  turn  from 
us.  It's  too  deep  in  us." 

"Mary—" 

"And  now  she's  going — going  away,  defeated — 
with  that  silly  old  chap.  And  maybe  they've  got  a 
treasure — who  knows  ? — and  it's  yours." 

"Treasueh  nothing.  I  knew  a  man  in  Terrebonne 
who  dug  fo'  three  years  and  he  got  somethin',  too. 
Box  of  rusty  ship-chain  and  chills  and  feveh.  Big 
Jim's  got  fou'  treasueh  maps  he's  collected  from 
different  cajuns.  I  seen  mo'  hide-ups  on  this  south 
coast  than  you  can  count.  You  cain't  inter-est  me 
in  treasueh — except  what  I  get  out  of  this  land  with 
a  tractor  plow — when  the  ditches  are  in." 

"Well,"  Mary  said  calmly,  "there  is  Laure — isn't 
she  enough  ?" 

He  jumped  up  with  something  like  a  whoop.  His 
arm  shot  out  with  the  gesture  that  the  boss  used  to 
signal  the  engineman  above  the  roar  of  the  drums. 
Big  Jim  turned  to  his  levers — and  the  chains  and 
cables  groaned  on  their  new  gear — the  man's  job 
was  on  once  more. 

"By  five  o'clock,"  shouted  Big  Jim,  "she'll  be  cut- 


THE    BIG    HIDE-UP  273 

tin'  righto!  I  promised  that,  didn't  I,  Williams? 
Watch  my  smoke!" 

Williams  did  not  hear.  He  and  Mary  were  talk 
ing  pointedly,  and  when  Mary  went  back  over  the 
gangway  to  the  white  cabin  boat,  the  boss  followed 
her  in  more  of  a  daze  than  I  had  ever  seen  him. 

Then  presently  he  came  leaping  across  the  plank 
and  was  back  to  his  bunk-house  behind  the  dredge- 
boat,  and  calling  to  the  bull  cook  as  he  went. 

"Get  that  hot  water,  boy!  Yes,  seh — and  them 
sto'  clothes!  Lay  'em  out  in  the'  faster  than  any 
yelleh  boy  eve'  moved  in  this  swamp !" 

"What's  the  matter  ?"  I  inquired  innocently. 

He  gave  me  a  hard  look  as  he  dodged  in.  "Doc- 
teh  Dick,  you're  a  no-account  son-of-a-gun!  You 
been  hangin'  around  here  since  April,  and  it  took 
Mary  to  start  somethin'.  Mary — you  might  have 
known  it  would  take  Mary !" 

I  left  him  in  his  hot  little  room,  with  the  boy  hop 
ping  for  things  this  way  and  that,  and  went  to  the 
Seabird.  Mary  sat  quite  calmly  on  the  stern  seat 
cushions. 

"We  ought  to  put  you  quite  out  of  this,"  she  said 
with  sudden  severity. 

"Out  of  what  ?    And  what  have  I  done  ?" 

"Nothing.     That's  your  infamy.     Nothing  but 


274  JOHN    THE    FOOL 

drooled  away  over  your  pipe  and  let  things  run  on. 
Virgil — poor  chap,  you  might  have  made  him  see 
long  ago !" 

"Did  you  expect  me  to  assist  at  any  such  wild  ex 
pedition  as  getting  a  chap  married — or  that  sort  of 
thing?  Not  remotely.  I  would  as  soon  see  a  man 
into  a  loblolly." 

"And  what's  that?" 

"It's  a  hole  with  no  bottom.  Clell  is  in  one  now. 
And  Virgil — you're  pushing  him  into  another  one 
— only  worse." 

"You  have  done  wretchedly,  Doctor  Dick.  I'm 
not  certain  I  love  you  any  more.  You've  been  a 
traitor  even  to  the  land  company.  And  Virgil's 
affair—" 

"And  yours,  my  dear — " 

She  refused  to  advert  to  any  possible  affair  of 
hers.  I  went  down  from  that  frigid  area  of  the 
stern  deck  and  filled  my  pipe  out  of  the  jar  on  Vir 
gil's  cabin  table.  Then  I  read  a  current  review  lan 
guidly — it  was  the  first  I  had  seen  in  months,  and 
the  affairs  of  the  world  appeared  incomprehensible 
— mere  piffle  from  some  other  planet. 

I  tried  to  be  indifferent  to  this  piffle  of  Mary's  and 
Virgil's.  Even  when  Virgil  and  his  close  shave 
came  on  board  followed  by  the  yelleh  boy  and  two 


THE    BIG    HIDE-UP  275 

others  of  the  crew,  I  refused  interest  to  them.  One 
was  a  white  man,  a  small,  wiry,  narrow-eyed  chap, 
and  the  other  a  big  black  fellow;  and  I  guessed  the 
first  to  be  one  of  Williams'  gun-toters  from  the 
river,  and  the  last  to  be  a  deep  swamp  nigger  who 
knew  Isle  Bonne's  intricate  waterways,  and  was 
emancipated  from  ghost  haids  and  such. 

"Sho,  boss,"  I  heard  him  say,  when  we  had  turned 
and  were  going  back  along  the  channel.  "Ah  can 
go  in  deh.  And  dat  Manilaman  he'll  have  to  wait 
fo'  a  tide  to  get  his  luggah  into  de  lake.  An'  a  full 
moon  tide  he'll  get  afteh  midnight — and  no  sooneh. 
If  he  hasn't  poled  out  now." 

Mary  and  Virgil  talked  earnestly  on  the  stern 
seats.  When  I  sauntered  aft  to  get  the  breeze  and 
less  smell  of  the  motor  below,  they  ceased,  and  the 
conversation  dribbled  to  sunsets  and  mosquitoes.  It 
was  nine  miles  to  the  open  lakes  and  for  seven  of 
them  they  did  not  notice  me.  The  yelleh  boy  got 
more  consideration.  We  passed  the  string  of  work- 
boats  at  the  pumping-plant  site  where  already  the 
men  were  cleaning  out  the  abandoned  concrete  foun 
dations  of  the  dam  to  build  the  higher  frames,  and 
young  Ryan,  the  new  structural  engineer  in  charge, 
hailed  the  boss  with  a  friendly  message  to  the  sten 
ographer  in  the  city  offices  of  the  land  company. 


276  JOHN    THE    FOOL 

Virgil  shook  his  head.  "Not  goin'  out  front  this 
trip.  Goin'  in — deep!"  He  laughed,  and  the  motor 
throbbed  on  out  into  a  sea  of  gold  where  the  level 
sunrays  lay  upon  the  tidal  lakes.  Eastward  and 
south  the  cloud-splendor  of  the  hurricane  months  lay 
over  the  gulf;  the  heat  was  a  thing  that  crept  to 
your  bones  in  that  breezeless  air. 

"He'll  get  no  wind  till  mornin',"  muttered  Virgil. 
"Treasueh !  A-runnin'  off  with  ou'  treasueh.  Why, 
the  old  coyote !" 

"Which?"  I  ventured,  and  from  the  silence  I 
felt  out  of  it. 

"If  there  had  been  any  decent  place  to  put  you, 
we  would  not  have  brought  you  along,"  returned 
Mary,  at  length.  "You're  not  a  bit  of  use.*' 

Still  one  had  one's  pipe.  I  did  not  need  their 
confidences. 

We  turned  the  long  marsh  point  that  marked  the 
easternmost  reach  of  Isle  Bonne's  salt  grass.  The 
wooded  cheniere  lay  six  miles  to  westward  in  that 
molten  glow  of  sun  and  lake.  The  big  black,  who 
knew  the  shoals  and  sand  spits,  ran  in  shoreward 
at  half  speed,  and  then  we  chugged  along  slowly, 
muffled  down,  coming  up  under  the  first  of  the 
woods  where  the  shell  reefs  arose.  Isle  Bonne's 
single  house  still  lay  two  miles  about  the  point  of 


THE    BIG    HIDE-UP  277 

cypress.  A  glorious  opal  twilight  was  on  us  now; 
with  a  moon  rimming  the  storm-clouds  eastward. 

The  anchor  chain  went  down  and  the  Seabird 
swung  in  the  slow  tide.  They  would  not  take  a 
chance  on  running  farther  and  being  discovered. 
So  we  dined  under  the  awnings,  the  weazened  little 
deputy  with  us,  and  the  black  man  in  the  galley  with 
the  boy. 

"There's  a  good  many  things  you  can  get  the 
baron  on,  Mr.  Williams,"  said  the  gun-toting  deputy. 
"Smugglin',  piracy,  resistin'  an  officer,  grand  lar 
ceny  and — " 

"The  old  dog  hasn't  done  any  of  'em  yet" 

"He  will  before  we  get  through  with  him,"  an 
swered  Daggetts  pleasantly.  "We'll  plant  enough 
on  him  to  stick." 

"I  don't  want  him.  I  wouldn't  load  up  with  him 
fo'  a  farm.  All  I  want  is — "  he  broke  off,  eying  Mr. 
Daggetts  furtively — he  was  not  the  fellow  to  take 
the  whole  world  into  his  confidence.  He  looked  at 
me  quizzically,  and  then  at  Clell  who  had  idled  aft 
for  the  hour  obviously  occupied  with  his  thoughts. 
Virgil  went  on  in  a  lower  tone  to  Mary :  "No  man- 
neh  of  use  to  tell  this  fel-lo,  Daggetts,  that  we're 
kidnapin'  a  lady.  Sho',  he  thinks  he's  out  to  gun 
those  bad  niggers.  Hogjaw's  a  gin-and-laudanum 


278  JOHN    THE    FOOL 

nigger  and  got  a  levee  record,  and  Daggetts  is  wish 
ful  fo'  to  meet  him." 

He  turned  to  take  the  wheel  from  his  black  helms 
man.  But  he  beckoned  Mary  again  to  his  side. 
"You'  goin'  to  get  me  in  bad,  Mary — she'll  sho' 
hate  the  air  I  breathe  after  this." 

"It's  your  only  gamble,"  she  retorted.  "Come,  be 
a  sport." 

I  went  back  to  the  stern  awnings  wondering  what 
had  got  into  Mary,  the  complacent  "Sport!"  Clell 
was  finishing  his  cigar. 

"What  do  you  think  of  it,"  I  asked,  "as  a  show 
down?" 

"He  loses.  Granting  that  he  finds  her.  You  see, 
he's  got  the  island,  and  she  can't  forgive  that.  He 
can't  come  to  her  now — she'll  not  listen.  She's  too 
mightily  proud,  and  if  he  steals  her  according  to 
Mary's  idiotic  idea,  she'll  hate  him  more  than  be 
fore." 

"Tut-tut!"  I  answered.  "That  is  what  you  wish 
— and  the  wish  is  father  to  the  thought.  And  you, 
my  boy — how  about  yourself?" 

"I — "  he  said  placidly,  "give  him  his  chance — I 
told  him  I'd  play  right,  you  know.  But  there's 
Mary — I  don't  understand  what's  got  into  her." 

I  left  him  with  a  suspicion  that  after  all  he  was 


THE    BIG    HIDE-UP  279 

troubled  by  that.  Stupid,  that  he  could  not  see !  I 
concluded  they  were  both  getting  about  what  they 
deserved  out  of  their  first  egregious  quarrel.  Mary's 
young  man  was  seriously  independent,  that  was 
plain — and  she  saw  it.  It  was  well  enough  for  her ; 
she  ought  to  understand  that  with  men,  love  is  a 
thing  which,  if  they  do  not  meet  on  one  corner,  they 
will  on  the  next. 

Octave,  the  black  steersman,  held  far  in  the  lake 
when  we  turned  out  of  the  canal.  Off  the  eastern 
most  point  of  Isle  Bonne's  marshy  shore  the  shoals 
ran  far,  and  it  was  quite  sundown  when  we  were 
able  to  run  northward.  Octave  held  his  palm  to 
the  southward.  "Air's  stirrin',  Misteh  Williams.  If 
they  get  a  breeze  to-night,  look  out.  That  luggeh'll 
outsail  and  motor-boat  you  got." 

"It's  the  hurricane  month  and  afternoon  squalls. 
They'll  get  no  wind  until  to-morrow  after  nine 
o'clock." 

But  the  south  coast  black  shook  his  head : 
"Wind's  movin'  somewhe'." 

Daggetts,  from  the  stump  of  a  mast  forward  on 
the  cabin,  kept  a  lookout.  It  was  almost  dusk  when 
he  called  Williams  from  the  wheel. 

"She's  out — lyin'  becalmed  in  the  flood-tide,  and 
it's  movin'  him  northerly.  We  better  run  behind 


280  JOHN    THE    FOOL 

the  point  and  lay  till  it's  dark  if  you  want  to  sur 
prise  'em." 

We  all  saw  now,  against  the  last  glow,  the  outline 
of  Allesjandro's  great  red  sail.  It  was  two  miles 
westward.  The  doughty  baron  and  his  man  had 
got  well  cleared  of  the  forest  channel  by  means  of 
pole  and  oars,  it  seemed.  And  now  the  air  was 
stirring  faintly  from  the  southeast.  The  black  splen 
dor  of  the  daily  squall  clouds  still  lay  there  over 
the  gulf. 

"We  better  lie  low  until  late,"  Daggetfs  counseled. 
"If  he  picks  up  a  breeze,  and  knows  we're  after  him, 
he  can  run  for  the  west'ard  passes  and  into  the  Gulf 
of  Mexico.  That  little  Manilaman  knows  every 
rod  of  shore  and  shoal,  and  he's  got  a  weather  boat, 
too." 

"How  about  the  reef  off  the  cypress  point  this 
side  of  Prosper's?"  Virgil  asked  his  man. 

"We  c'n  lay  under  it  for  the  flood  tide  and  they 
won't  see  us.  We  draw  three  feet  fo*,  boss — we 
betteh  lay  up  than  take  a  chance  o'  goin'  aground 
and  have  that  Manilaman  laugh." 

The  boss  was  reluctant.  Not  that  he  had  any 
idea  what  he  was  to  do.  In  this  criminal  proceed 
ing  I  saw  now  that  he  was  completely  at  the  com 
mand  of  Mary,  the  super-civilized. 

"The'  was  a  fight,"  he  murmured.    "That's  what 


THE    BIG   HIDE-UP  281 

sticks  me — that  yarn  of  Mangy's.  And  the  little 
girl — the  last  he  saw — sittin'  on  her  great-grand 
dad's  buccaneer  boat  with  her  gun.  And  lookin' 
pale-like  and  sad,  Mangy  said." 

"Did  she?  Well,  she  was  escaping  her  troubles 
— and  you." 

"Sho' !  Mary,  sometimes  I  believe  you !  All  right 
— we'll  lay  up  till  the  tide's  filled.  Then  we'll  come 
down  on  'em,  by  Mighty — throw  a  rope  about  the 
mast  of  that  luggeh,  throw  the  Manilaman  ove'- 
boa'd — and  then  yo'  listen  to  me — Mary!  I'll  give 
her  some  talk — and  the  whole  hell-a-mile  world  can 
stand  the'  and  hear  it !" 

We  anchored  in  that  warm  dark  under  the  cypress 
point  and  at  last  the  shape  of  the  lugger  grew  indis 
tinct,  faded  into  the  star-strewn  horizon,  while  to 
the  south  the  wink  of  the  gulf  storm  showed  now 
and  then,  Isle  Bonne's  white  shell  shore. 

Clell  and  I  sat  morosely  apart  over  our  tobacco. 
The  conspirators  seemed  to  have  small  use  for  us. 

"Doctor  Dick,"  muttered  my  companion  after 
a  while,  "who'd  have  thought  anything  of  the  sort  in 
Mary  ?  I  didn't  suppose  she  had  the  stuff !  Not  that 
I  care  now — particularly." 

Another  Barataria  mosquito  had  me  on  the  nose ; 
I  refused  to  discuss  affairs  of  the  heart  with  him 
or  any  one. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

BREED  OF  THE  BUCCANEERS 

SOME  time  after  midnight,  Octave,  the  big  black, 
who  had  been  sent  in  the  dingey  to  the  cypress 
point  that  he  might  keep  watch  on  the  lugger  when 
the  light  failed  us,  returned  cautiously. 

"Dat  Manilaman,  he  went  asho' — and  Ah  reckon 
de  old  man  wif  him.  And  dey  reefed  deh  sail  down, 
and  none  o'  dem  is  on  watch." 

"And  the  tide?"  muttered  Virgil,  who  had  sat 
staring  into  the  darkness  most  of  the  long  hours. 

"Fou*  feet  ove'  dat  reef — we  can  skun  it.  Only 
we  betteh  pole  an'  drift,  and  pole  an'  drift  twel  we 
close  down  on  dem.  Dat  Crump  will  shoot  quick." 

Mr.  Daggetts  yawned  from  his  cushions.  Con 
versation  had  long  since  failed  us.  Virgil  had  vainly 
tried  to  have  Mary  retire  to  her  little  forward  cabin ; 
she  was  calmly  interested  in  the  next  move.  "You 
see  it  was  my  idea,  after  all,"  she  answered  me, 
when  I  had  doubted  the  expediency  of  having  her 
along.  And  Clell,  on  whom  a  watchful  moodiness 
had  fallen,  since  he  had  guessed  the  plot  of  the  ex- 

282 


BREED    OF    THE    BUCCANEERS     283 

pedition,  evinced  no  interest  in  Miss  Mason's  doings 
one  way  or  the  other. 

A  few  whispered  words,  and  the  Seablrd  was 
shoved  over  the  long  sand  reef  that  ran  from  the 
cypress  point  two  miles  into  the  lake.  The  breeze 
still  held  gently  from  the  southeast  and  would  bear 
us  with  the  flood  tide,  directly  down  upon  Allesjan- 
dro's  craft  lying  all  unsuspectingly  in  the  channel  a 
half-mile  off  Prosper 's  cove. 

"They're  going  to  leave,  all  right,"  said  Virgil, 
"or  they'd  never  laid  off  shore  so  far  with  the 
squalls  blowin'  around.  It's  mighty  poor  anchor 
age  out  there.  But  they  don't  want  to  be  caught 
in  close  on  an  ebb-tide  if  they  had  to  get  out  in  a 
hurry." 

He  was  pole-walking  the  little  cruiser  along  one 
side,  and  Octave  on  the  other.  She  slid  easily  along, 
only  grating  her  keel  twice  on  the  bars.  The  pole- 
runners  moved  in  silence,  and  the  cloud-wrapt  heav 
ens  favored  us.  The  moon  was  rising,  but  so  far  it 
threw  nothing  save  a  curious  web  of  light  that  was 
more  concealing  to  us  than  real  darkness.  The  dim 
shore  points  became  mysterious  blurs,  and  through 
this  enveloping  distortion  we  floated  in  a  profound 
stillness.  Virgil  had  cautioned  us  not  to  talk,  and 
the  four  of  us  stared  into  that  illusion  of  moonlight, 


284  JOHN    THE    FOOL 

with  no  sound  coming  to  us  save  the  drip  of  water 
from  the  pole-runners  and  the  soft  shuffle  of  their 
feet  along  the  gunwales. 

It  seemed  an  hour  of  this  acute  waiting  before 
I  heard  the  black  man  whisper  in  the  silence.  He 
had  been  keeping  the  little  cruiser  broadside  on  in 
the  sweep  of  the  tide  over  the  shallows,  but  now  he 
held  her  stern  in  with  the  drag-hook  so  that  she 
came  head-on  with  the  run  of  water.  And  there, 
straight  ahead,  I  saw  the  lugger  riding,  her  red  sail 
at  a  careless  half-reef,  without  lights,  apparently 
untenanted. 

"By  Mighty,"  Virgil  muttered,  "another  moment 
and  we'd  rode  across  her  chains!"  He  was  laugh 
ing  now  with  an  exultation  of  adventure  new  to 
him.  Men  he  had  crossed  and  fought,  and  tide  and 
flood  and  storm  and  fortune,  but  for  love  of  a 
woman,  never.  He  had  whispered  as  much  to  me 
on  this  night,  with  a  return  of  his  old  shy  confi 
dence,  and  a  knowing  shrug  toward  Mary.  "If  she 
isn't  right,  why  I'm  makin'  a  big  horse-play  of  it 
all,  Docteh  Dick !" 

Octave  and  the  boss  conferred  a  momenf  for 
ward;  then  I  saw  the  black  man  slip  over  the  side, 
stealthily  down  in  the  water,  and  swim  off  with  a 
trailing  line.  We  drifted  silently  past  the  lugger, 


BREED    OF    THE    BUCCANEERS     285 

and  then  I  heard  a  soft  grating  and  knew  the  swim 
mer  had  fastened  a  grapple  low  on  her  anchor  chain. 
Daggetts,  the  little  deputy,  watched  interestedly,  sit 
ting  cross-legged  on  the  cabin  top  with  his  short 
shotgun  across  his  knees.  He  mumbled  his  disap 
pointment  to  me.  "Might  as  well  have  left  me  in 
camp.  Ain't  a  nigger  on  her — no  one  else  that  I 
can  see." 

Virgil  was  sheering  the  launch  off  so  that  she  did 
not  grate  along  the  Good  Child's  gunwale.  Then 
he  was  across  and  tiptoeing  gently  to  the  open  hatch 
in  the  midship  section.  The  cabin  of  the  lugger  was 
an  extremely  low  affair,  the  rounding  roof  hardly 
rising  from  the  deck.  The  boss  was  stooping  to 
peer  within.  Then  he  was  listening. 

He  came  back  to  us  and  whispered. 

"It's  strange.  She's  there,  but  no  one  else.  The 
bar  is  drawn  across  the  bunk — and  her  scarf — that 
little  lace  thing  she  used  to  wear,  remembeh?  It's 
lying  on  the  edge  of  the  bunk — yes,  seh — and  she's 
under  the  bar — asleep.  I — I,"  he  murmured  softly, 
"can  hear  her  breathe." 

He  was  laughing  gently,  but  aglow  with  excite 
ment. 

"They,  the  rest  of  'em,  must  be  asho'  getting 
ready  fo'  the  start.  They  got  a  lot  of  new  plunder 


286  JOHN   THE    FOOL 

down  in  the  cabin,  but  I  cain'.t  see  exactly.  Now, 
you  fel-los  start  that  engine — half -speed.  I'll  stay 
on  this  boat.  I — I — want  to  see  her  awaken." 

And  he  went  back  to  peer  within  at  her  vague 
form  in  the  darkness.  She  would  be  face  to  face 
with  him,  now — in  his  power,  as  he  wished,  and  she 
would  have  to  listen  to  his  victoriousness,  whatever 
the  issue. 

When  the  launch  slid  away  and  the  line  tightened 
we  could  still  see  him  staring  within,  and  he  seemed 
to  be  laughing  but  awed  by  his  new  adventure.  In 
all  his  fighting  life  never  had  he  turned  aside  for 
an  affair  of  women;  he  was  swept  to  a  great  ex- 
ultance  by  its  chances. 

The  Seabird  drew  on  at  half-speed,  the  throb  of 
her  motor  deepening  but  muffled  as  the  tug  of  the 
heavier  craft  made  her  labor.  Then  the  Good  Child 
came  on  astern,  and  we  lost  Virgil  and  his  lone 
watch  of  his  revered  shrine. 

Once  above  the  hum  of  the  engine  I  thought  I 
heard  a  faint  shout  from  Isle  Bonne's  dim  shore; 
then  we  hurried  on.  The  deputy  got  up  and 
stretched  his  legs. 

"Well,  what  did  Williams  bring  Die  for  ?  I  come 
for  bad  niggers,  and  he  gives  me  a  boat  ride — and  a 


BREED    OF    THE    BUCCANEERS     287 

few  mosquitoes — and  it's  a  fine  night  for  stars." 
He  went  forward  to  the  steersman  with  his  com 
plaints. 

Clell  came  to  sit  musingly  with  us,  looking  astern 
now  and  then  at  the  stolen  lugger  and  its  freight. 

"All  the  same,  when  she  awakens,  I  wouldn't  care 
about  facing  her,  and  be  Williams." 

"I  think,"  said  Mary  decisively,  "when  we  get  far 
enough  from  Isle  Bonne  so  the  baron  can  not  pos 
sibly  interfere,  we  shall  cut  the  tow  line  and  leave 
them  to  their  own  affairs — although  it  would  be 
worth  years  of  life  to  hear  Virgil  tell  her  he  loves 
her.  But  it  would  be  a  shame.  I  really  think  we 
shall  cut  the  line.  He's  a  good  sailor,  and  she? — 
well,  she  can't  escape  him,  you  see." 

"Yes,"  murmured  Clell,  "she'll  jump  overboard. 
Oh,  you  don't  know  her.  She  can  swim  from  here 
to  John-the-Fool !  Only  the  sharks — " 

"She'll  never  get  a  chance,"  retorted  Mary. 
"Never,  Mr.  Clell-the-Fool !  That  is  a  wonderful 
way  to  win  a  woman — simply  steal  her  as  Virgil 
did." 

"Mary,"  gasped  Clell,  "why  didn't  you  tell  me — 
long  ago?" 

She  shrugged  evasively.    "Oh,  well!    But  now  I 


288  JOHN   THE    FOOL 

see  plainly  that  you  and  Doctor  Dick  are  perfect  old 
maids.  I  had  to  come  down  here  in  my  barbaric 
Broadway  fashion  and  start  something." 

"Well,  I  really,"  he  went  on,  "would  like  to  know 
what  you  came  here  for !  Virgil's  er — romance  ?" 

"He  never  had  a  chance  to  talk  to  her  in  six 
years — she  always  ran  away,  he  says."  Mary  thrust 
out  her  firm  chin  at  him.  "And  you,  of  course, 
with  your  conceit — and  Doctor  Dick,  with  his  egre 
gious  cynicism,  couldn't  suspect  how  things  were!" 

"I  suspect,"  I  put  in,  "exactly  how  things  are!" 

And  Mary  understood  me  well  enough;  but  Clell 
— never.  We  watched  Deputy  Daggetts  hug  his 
shotgun  and  shiver  in  the  morning  damp.  A  film  of 
dawn  hung  above  the  banked  clouds  eastward.  The 
rippling  fringe  of  the  squall  over  the  gulf  had  just 
stirred  our  tidal  lake  and  passed  westward.  A  star 
hung  over  the  damp  limp  sail  of  the  Good  Child 
as  she  trailed  at  the  hundred  feet  of  tow  line.  Vir 
gil  held  her  tiller  on  the  course.  Now  and  then  our 
black  steersman  looked  back  grinning;  he  had  some 
secret  orders  from  the  boss,  but  what  they  were  I 
knew  not. 

"For  an  adventure,"  I  murmured,  "it  has  been  in 
tolerably  quiet.  And  breakfast — will  Virgil  bring 
the  lady  to  breakfast?  I  mind  me  once  at  the  bar- 


BREED    OF    THE    BUCCANEERS     289 

on's — "  but  they  would  not  let  me  relate  again  of  the 
little  duck. 

In  the  gaining  dawn  I  began  to  see  my  compan 
ions'  faces — Mary's  with  her  clear  pallor  and  gray 
eyes  a  trifle  tired  from  the  vigil ;  Clell  with  his  rug 
ged  look  of  hardiness  and  outworld  freedom.  Plain 
ly  there  was  no  surrender,  and  the  strength  was  his. 
He  might  easily  have  forgotten  that  she  ever  cared 
for  him  as  far  as  I  could  read.  And  she  had  suf 
fered  in  her  wilderness  up  there,  the  wilderness  of 
the  city;  while  he  had  found  new  freedom  in  his. 
Again  I  caught  that  speechless  surprise  in  Mary, 
the  mingled  hurt  pride  and  admiring  envy  that  he 
had  so  changed.  Never  had  she  dreamed  of  having 
to  fight  for  his  regard,  his  loyalty,  his  love.  That 
any  new  world  could  come  to  suffice;  a  new  ardor 
from  which  she  must  win  him  back.  She  was  not 
used  to  making  love;  he  had  done  all  that  in  the 
old  days.  I  saw  her  confused  dilemma  so  cleverly 
concealed.  She  did  not  know  how  to  begin  with 
him.  I  was  enjoying  it  all  hugely;  it  seemed  an  ex 
cellent  revenge  on  Mary  to  have  her  discover  she 
was  not  altogether  indispensable  to  any  of  us.  She 
had  stepped  out  of  her  exquisite  and  ordered  world 
of  tribute  and  success  to  where  the  footing  was  not 
so  sure. 


290  JOHN   THE    FOOL 

And  while  all  this  was  idling  through  my  mind  as 
the  pink  day  shouldered  up  against  half  the  sky,  I 
heard  an  exclamation  from  somewhere.  It  seemed 
to  come  out  of  the  air,  to  be  distant,  and  yet  so  ab 
solutely  insistent  with  shock  and  numbing  surprise 
that  it  arrested  my  mind  above  all  the  throb  of  our 
engine.  I  looked  back  instinctively  to  that  boat  we 
were  towing,  it  could  come  from  nowhere  else. 

Virgil  had  left  his  wheel  and  was  amidships  on 
the  lugger  staring  down  in  the  low  cabin.  His  at 
titude  was  that  of  a  man  who  had  suddenly  seen  a 
pit  yawn  before  him.  He  was  utterly  speechless 
now.  Then  I,  too,  found  my  question  palled  on  my 
lips.  We  all  were  staring  without  word. 

Up  and  out  of  that  stuffy  cabin  on  the  other  boat 
an  apparition  was  rising,  and  it  was  not  the  kid 
naped  mistress  of  Isle  Bonne. 

The  Baron  de  Vedrinnes,  his  rooster  cap  awry 
over  his  red-gray  shock  of  hair,  and  in  his  vast 
redder  robe,  was  yawning  and  looking  about  that 
fair  morning  with  the  air  of  a  man  who  admires 
but  who  had  not  yet  got  the  sleep  rubbed  out  of  his 
eyes. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

IN  THE  FACE  OF  FAILURE 

WE  were  quite  too  stupefied  for  comment.  Vir 
gil,  standing  within  six  feet  of  that  appari 
tion,  was  the  first  to  recover.  He  made  a  down 
ward  motion  of  his  hand  to  the  helmsman  and  the 
power  was  shut  from  the  Seabird's  propeller.  The 
tow-line  slid  to  the  water,  and  the  heavier  Good 
Child  floated  alongside.  The  Texan  had  sat  down  on 
the  hatch  cover  and  was  regarding  his  prize. 

The  Baron  John  Bernal  de  Vedrinnes,  one  time 
of  Austria  and  the  Louisiana  Lottery  Company, 
seemed  heaving  a  sigh  of  satisfaction  and  even  com 
prehension.  He  set  his  green  cap  back  on  his  left 
ear,  and  then  I  saw  he  had  a  fearful  wound  across 
his  pink  head.  It  was  bound  up  with  a  bit  of  lacy 
stuff  but  this  had  fallen  quite  away.  And  now  his 
eyes  went  to  the  deck  near  Virgil's  feet,  he  advanced 
and  picked  up  something,  cocking  his  head  sidewise 
sorrily  and  yet  with  a  great  and  sagacious  pride. 

"Ah,  my  good  Doctor!"  he  roared  now.  "You 
should  have  seen  it  all.  One  fellow  clipped  across 

291 


292  JOHN   THE   FOOL 

the  temple  and  another  stuck  like  a  pig  through  the 
neck!  Me — I — it  could  not  have  been  better  in  my 
days  of  the  cuirassiers!" 

He  was  flourishing  at  us  the  fragments  of  his 
wondrous  sword.  I  saw  then  the  spattered  blood  of 
the  deck,  the  coaming,  and  the  littered  ropes,  for  the 
day  was  here.  He  gathered  the  bits  of  steel  in  his 
hand  and  waved  them  again.  "And  now,  my  friends, 
have  you  breakfast  anywhere  about?  I  could  sit 
at  it  with  appreciation.  As  you  surprise  me  with 
these  attentions,  I  may  expect  your  hospitality,  may 
I  not?" 

"The  su'prise,"  murmured  Virgil,  "is  mutual." 
"Doubtless."  He  came  near  our  rail  and  then 
perceived  Mary.  Blinking  his  old  fox  eyes,  he  gath 
ered  his  vast  robe  and  bowed  and  then  stood  erect 
like  a  gorgeous,  rotund  totem  pole  in  the  sunrise. 
"I  am  honored — I  am  stolen,  abducted — made  away 
writh  by  force — what  an  adventure  to  conclude  with ! 
I  can  relate  further  for  my  lady.  I  am  forever  turn 
ing  up  in  situations  which  cause  me  to  suspect  that 
fortune,  my  good-grand-dame,  is  still  winking  her 
eye  at  the  world  and  chuckling:  'Ah,  John  Bernal! 
In  he  goes  by  the  heels — deep  in  the  jam  pot.  Up 
he  comes  and  scraping  the  sweetest  of  the  sweets  on 
a  bright  penny — that  is  like  him.'  " 


IN    THE    FACE    OF    FAILURE       293 

"What,  may  I  ask,"  I  put  in  on  his  braggadocio, 
"has  happened?" 

"Everything — everything !" 

"Where,"  muttered  Virgil,  "is  Laure — we  came 
fo'  her." 

"Yes  ?"  The  baron  looked  at  him  cornerwise  out 
of  an  eye.  "Your  scoundrelly  courts  have  decided 
against  her — she  has  lost,  and  there  is  another  dis 
appointment  for  my  marquise.  But  no  matter — 
she  still  has  me — Baron  John — who  always  turns  up 
at  the  crux  of  things." 

"Where  is  she  ?"  the  boss  retorted  curtly. 

The  baron  tapped  his  bandages.  "If  you  had  but 
waited  an  hour,  you  might  have  seen  her.  Her 
tender  heart  could  not  abide  my  scratches.  She 
must  be  taken  ashore  with  Allesjandro  to  find  some 
doctor's  stuff  and  bandages.  Bah — me!"  He 
slapped  his  wound.  "What  is  that  to  me  ?" 

"You  were  going  away  to-day — with  her?" 

"We  awaited  a  wind,  my  friend.  We  were  off  to 
dumfound  the  world.  The  good  God  would  see  to 
that."  He  had  come  cockily  aboard  us,  puffing  like  a 
porpoise,  and  bowed  again  to  Mary.  'I  heard  of 
your  arrival,  mademoiselle — it  is  strange  how  news 
travels  through  our  swamps — but  it  does.  Not  a 
move  can  one  make — that,  I  perceive,  is  why  you  are 


294  JOHN    THE    FOOL 

here."  And  he  grinned,  closing  one  shifty  eye.  "I 
am  honored,  mademoiselle." 

"I  was  most  happily  received  at  your  island," 
Mary  answered.  "And  I  have  heard  the  most  excel 
lent  things  about  you." 

"I  should  imagine.  The  good  doctor  here,"  and 
he  chucked  me  in  the  ribs  with  his  fat  elbow,  "trust 
it  to  him.  My  little  marquise,  she  can  tell  you !  Eh, 
the  good  doctor,  he  is  not  so  slow.  In  her  exquisite 
and  happy  patois  she  can  relate" — he  broke  off  and 
shook  his  head  at  me — "ah,  but  I  will  be  discreet !" 

I  wanted  to  punch  him;  they  all  looked  at  me  with 
new  suspicion.  If  anything  went  wrong  with  the 
lamentable  affairs  of  Clell  or  Mary  or  Virgil  Will 
iams,  they  seemed  to  imagine  I  was  at  the  bottom  of 
it.  It  is  always  the  misfortune  of  the  man  who 
keeps  his  mouth  shut  and 'refuses  maudlin  advice 
to  confidences. 

Williams  had  come  over  now  and  sat  down  de 
liberately  across  from  the  Baron  John.  I  saw  at 
once  he  was  going  to  have  it  out  with  him;  I  was 
about  to  suggest  something  concerning  laying  the 
cloth  for  breakfast  here  instead  of  in  the  stuffy  little 
cabin,  when  Virgil  began,  after  his  long  measuring 
of  his  enemy. 


IN    THE    FACE    OF    FAILURE       295 

"I  want  to  know,"  he  said,  "just  what  you  did 
with  her?" 

"I  could  answer  better,  my  friend,"  retorted  the 
baron,  "were  I  back  at  Isle  Bonne  instead  of  out 
here  in  mid-lake." 

"Is  she  there?" 

"As  you  have  stolen  the  only  means  she  had  of 
getting  away  she  undoubtedly  is." 

The  Texan  motioned  again  to  his  engine-man. 
"Put  her  about,  Octave — run  for  the  cheniere. 
Only,"  he  looked  at  the  baron,  hardening  his  eyes, 
"I  have  a  notion  to  maroon  you  on  this  shell  reef. 
Just  one  thing  prevents  me — and  that  is  to  know 
what  part  you  are  playing  in  her  affairs.  And  what 
you  have  in  that  lugger.  The's  a  box  of  plunder — 
and  you  were  making  away  with  it." 

"I?  That  was  the  last  I  thought  of!  You  have 
done  the  making  away,  messieur.  My  little  mar 
quise — we  were  to  leave  only  at  our  pleasure — with 
dignity — and  without  waiting  for  your  eviction. 
Ah,  this  last  night,  she  was  weeping  as  she  went 
back  through  the  moonlight  to  her  island.  I  can 
see  her,  my  friends — standing  upright  in  the  skiff 
as  Allesjandro  pulled  the  oars — saying  farewell,  for 
she  would  not  return  again." 


296  JOHN   THE    FOOL 

Virgil  was  looking  at  the  blue  wall  of  cypress 
over  the  rags  of  mist  lifting  from  the  lake. 
Far  beyond  Isle  Bonne  a  tremor  of  smoke  went  to 
the  sky  and  spread  slowly.  There  his  machine  was 
grinding  on  at  the  man's  size  job,  and  he  was  here 
listening  to  all  this  chatter  from  the  fustian  knight. 

"She  would  never  have  left,"  returned  Virgil 
slowly,  "if  it  hadn't  been  fo'  you.  We'd  have  com 
promised  this  case  five  years  ago,  if  it  hadn't  been 
fo'  all  the  foolishness  you  put  in  her  head.  You 
kept  her  in  a  dream,  and  neve'  could  she  see  us 
right." 

"I  have  made  her  little  world  bright  with  fancies. 
I  have  made  her  feel  and  see — yes,  dream — if  you 
will — what  would  have  been  forever  beyond  her. 
Ah,  what  she  is,  I  made  of  her!  I  am  the  fool, 
then — am  I?  Very  well,  then,  my  friend,  I  am 
Baron  John  of  the  Fool's  Island,  and  I  have  built  a 
soul  while  you  were  digging  a  ditch." 

The  boss  sighed  patiently.  "Well,  no  mo*.  I  ex- 
paict  the's  other  knights  than  you  in  the  world.  I 
reckon  the's  other  fighters.  And  that  stuff  in  the' — 
the  plunder  from  the  deep  swamp — whatever  it  is,  it 
is  not  yours.  It  was  hers  by  all  rights,  if  you  are 
tellin'  truth  of  it.  But  now  it's  ours  by  a  better 


IN    THE    FACE    OE    FAILURE       297 

right.  You  understand  it's  part  of  Isle  Bonne,  my 
friend?" 

The  old  knight  shrugged.  "You  are  entirely  wel 
come.  In  the  hold  of  my  man's  boat  is  a  ship's 
chest — exactly  as  we  found  it."  He  slipped  a 
lump  of  sugar  into  his  coffee  and  stirred  it,  tasted 
with  relish.  "Entirely  yours,  my  friend — I  have 
no  more  use  for  it  than  the  carcass  of  a  man  from 
which  the  soul  is  vanished." 

I  could  not  make  him  out.  That  gross  bundle 
of  a  man  with  the  face  of  a  Caesar.  In  a  fashion 
he  seemed  stunned,  and  airily  concealing  it.  I 
attributed  this  to  his  sore  wounds  which  he  would 
make  light  of. 

"Your  coffee,  mademoiselle,"  he  murmured  to 
Mary,  "is  excellent  My  man,  Allesjandro,  can 
surpass  it  but  a  trifle,  but  that  trifle — pardon  me — • 
be  it  coffee,  or  a  woman,  or  a  fight,  or  an  effulgence 
of  the  soul — that  trifle,  my  friends — by  which  one 
thing  surpasses  another — is  the  only  thing  worth 
living  for.  I  know — I  have  followed  trifles  a  life 
time." 

I  feared  he  was  in  mood  for  one  of  his  hour- 
long  preachments  such  as  I  had  listened  to  of  nights 
in  his  forest  lodge,  but  now  he  sat  back  pensive- 


298  JOHN    THE    FOOL 

ly  and  watched  the  Scabird  slipping  into  the  cove 
before  Papa  Prosper's.  There  was  no  sign  of  life, 
the  gray  square  house  on  stilts  was  so  quiet  that 
one  could  hear  the  droning  bees  behind  it  in  the 
wild  sweet  wet  garden.  The  men  made  fast  and 
we  got  out.  Then  I  saw  old  Prosper's  thin  figure 
on  his  gallerie.  He  held  his  inevitable  newspaper 
and  was  wiping  his  great  spectacles,  and  then  made 
a  gesture  of  welcome. 

"She  sleeps — mon  chere,"  he  said  gently.  "It  is 
lak  one's  heart  breaks.  One  great  thing  she  dream, 
messieurs — but  no  mo'." 

The  others  were  going  along  the  tiny  wharf 
toward  him  when  the  baron  touched  my  sleeve. 
"A  moment — Doctor,  you  and  our  friend.  As  he 
speaks  of  treasure,  and  his  new-made  titles,  let 
him  have  the  thing." 

We  followed  him  aboard  the  Good  Child  and  in 
to  the  low-roofed  space.  The  baron  pulled  aside 
a  piece  of  sail-cloth,  and  there  was  a  rude  chest  of 
thick  strips  of  wood  banded  with  rusty  iron — per 
haps  four  feet  long  by  two  wide.  A  mere,  rough 
old  ship's  chest  which  had  a  lead  lining  that  had 
now  been  rent  asunder  by  axes  and  had  here  and 
there,  a  spatter  of  blood  where  the  renegade  and 
disappointed  blacks  had  fought  the  baron  over  it 


IN    THE    FACE    OF    FAILURE       299 

The  old  man  pointed  to  the  lid  of  wood  and  sheet 
lead. 

"Throw  it  back,"  our  host  said :  "You  see  I  have 
the  key — it  has  been  in  my  possession  for  fifty-four 
years,  but  of  course  it  was  quite  useless  last  night 
— even  had  I  been  permitted  to  use  it." 

We  looked  at  him  in  some  astonishment.  His  airy 
pretense  was  quite  gone;  he  was  smiling  with  a 
brave  sadness. 

Then  Virgil,  bending,  threw  back  the  heavy  and 
rotted  slab  of  the  treasure  box;  the  ragged  seal  of 
inner  lead  came  with  it.  We  looked,  inhaling  the 
dry  dead  odor  of  musty  cloth  and  wormy  wood 
and  corroded  metal.  Within  that  narrow  leaded 
space  was  an  opened  case  elegantly  inlaid  with 
pearl,  within  which  was  a  pair  of  dueling  pistols, 
beautiful  weapons  of  a  period  of  the  '305,  along 
with  their  loader  and  percussion  box.  And  a  tar 
nished  candlestick,  a  dull  brass  ship's  compass,  a 
mass  of  rotted  woven  stuff,  and  a  pair  of  molded 
boots,  high  and  fine  of  leather  and  ornamentation. 
Not  a  thing  of  value  beyond  the  curio  store;  mere 
ly  the  stuff  you  may  see  any  day  in  the  antique  shops 
of  Royal  Street  in  New  Orleans;  which  has  come 
down  from  the  times  of  the  grandissimes  of  French 
Louisiana. 


3oo  JOHN    THE    FOOL 

"There  is  nothing  here  of  note,"  I  muttered. 

"Exactly."  The  Baron  John  raised  his  sore  arm 
to  his  bruised  head.  "And  what  there  is,  I  put 
there." 

"You!" 

"I,  messieur.  It  was  in  1853.  ^  was  second  in 
command  on  the  Petrel.  It  was  Armand  Drouillot 
and  I  who  ran  her  into  John-the-Fool  cove  on  a 
high  tide  to  escape  the  English  sloop-of-war  who 
were  lying  out  of  Caminda  Pass  for  the  slave- 
traders.  Do  you  remember  the  October  of  that 
year  ? — the  hurricane  that  all  but  destroyed  the  aris 
tocracy  of  French  Louisiana  gathered  at  its  water 
ing  place  on  Last  Island?  Well,  we  got  the  fringe 
of  it  here  to  eastward — enough  it  was  for  the  Black 
Petrel — she  went  hard  into  the  reef  at  the  edge  of 
Isle  Bonne  woods  and  the  marsh  channel  filled  be 
hind  her.  Armand,  the  old  hawk,  and  myself  took 
to  the  trees  and  made  our  way  to  his  brother  Pierre's 
house  where  now  the  ancient  chimneys  stand  in 
the  prairie.  The  crew  were  drowned  or  scattered, 
the  survivors  doubtless  hanged  the  world  over  later, 
for  few  there  were  who  did  not  deserve  it.  But 
Armand  and  I  came  back  when  Pierre's  house  went 
in  the  sea  that  rose  over  the  isle — Pierre,  the  old 
burgher,  had  escaped,  and  I  recall  the  glee  with 


IN    THE    FACE    OF    FAILURE       301 

which  Armand  plundered  his  strong  box  and  carried 
off  the  records."  The  old  man  paused  and  watch 
ed  us  cunningly :  "Can  you  guess  now  what  I  have 
hunted  for  these  four  years — the  fortune  of  my 
little  marquise  ?" 

I  shook  my  head;  Virgil  merely  continued  his 
watching.  The  baron  rolled  back  his  red  sleeve  to 
gesture  more  eloquently:  "Last  night,  after  we 
had  hoisted  the  Black  Petrel's  chest  out  of  the  sunk 
en  and  shell-filled  cabin,  I  opened  it  in  this  lugger's 
hold.  The  renegade  blacks  stood  by — they  had  sus 
pected  me  always  of  some  trick.  I  knew  there  was 
no  gold  in  the  ship  chest — and  that  they  had  assist 
ed  me  all  the  year  in  that  expectation.  So,  I  was 
not  unprepared  for  what  happened.  We  opened  it 
— but  then  I  found  that,  even  at  the  last,  Armand 
had  played  the  fox — the  documents  which  he  had 
secreted  in  the  ship's  box  when  we  still  had  hope  of 
escaping  on  her,  were  not  there.  Nothing — not 
a  dollar,  a  franc,  a  sou — either!  But  it  was  the 
warrants  from  Charles  the  Third  of  Spain,  issued 
to  Gaspard  Bouligny  de  Drouillot,  the  adventurer 
from  Bordeaux,  who  aided  the  fourth  Spanish  gov 
ernor  of  Louisiana — Don  Bernardo  de  Galvez — in 
the  capture  of  Mobile  in  1780,  that  I  sought — and 
in  vain.  Yet  I  swear  I  saw  Armand  put  the  same 


302  JOHN    THE    FOOL 

grants — which  were  for  ten  leagues  of  land  on  this 
south  coast — into  this  chest.  I  made  a  hurried 
search  last  night — and  then  the  black  hounds  were 
on  me.  Allesjandro  was  in  the  swamp  bringing 
the  last  of  the  loot  on  board,  so  I  fought  the  three 
alone — I  had  promised  them  gold — alas!  There 
was  none." 

"And  you  knew  all  the  time  there  was  none  ?" 

"Undoubtedly.  I  played  upon  them — their  super 
stitions,  their  terror  of  the  Drouillot  name,  their 
avarice — their  fear  of  the  law.  I  had  no  trouble 
with  them  at  first,  but  of  late — well,  it  was  all  I 
could  do  to  keep  my  marquise  from  appealing  to 
the  Yankees  to  control  the  blacks.  And  when  they 
thought  you  were  returning  with  men  who  would 
hunt  them  out  of  the  swamp,  they  hurried  the  work 
with  the  dynamite.  Then  the  end  came — there 
was  no  gold  in  Armand's  cabin,  and  I  knew  it." 

"Then  they  turned  upon  you!" 

The  old  swordsman  nodded ;  his  fat  arm  came  up 
triumphantly.  "It  could  not  have  been  better.  There, 
in  the  swamp,  by  the  moonlight,  with  my  lady  look 
ing  on  in  terror  yet  admiringly.  On  the  deck  of 
this  boat,  gentlemen.  The  instant  the  blacks  knew 
I  had  put  it  over  them,  they  rushed  me.  I  clipped 
Crump  across  the  face,  drawing  the  blade  so — and 


IN    THE    FACE    OF    FAILURE       303 

he  went  back  in  the  deep  black  water.  The  other 
fellow  took  my  thrust  through  the  neck,  and  with 
a  howl  he  followed.  But  the  third — as  he  went 
down,  pinned  as  neatly  as  ever  I  gave  a  man  the 
point,  he  fouled  me  over  head  with  a  leaded  rope. 
That  was  all.  He  fell  across  my  sword,  and  broke 
it  to  bits.  After  that  we  hurried  out  to  open  water, 
Allesjandro  with  his  pole  and  I  at  the  wheel,  quite 
dizzy,  but  equal  to  it." 

"You  fought  the  three  niggers — you!"  Virgil's 
voice  was  gentle. 

"Nothing,  my  friend.  They  had  no  chance — I 
had  a  bag  of  tricks  with  the  sword,  and  they  knew 
it.  It  is  the  colored  man's  fatal  weakness — he 
never  can  guess  what  the  white  man's  last  coup  may 
be." 

"You — you  are  some — man!"  Virgil's  hand  was 
out  to  him,  and  the  old  adventurer  took  it. 

"Well,  I  have  played  and  lost.  There  is  no  more 
now,  my  friends — I  have  sucked  the  orange  of  life 
quite  dry.  But  ah,  it  was  exquisite — my  old  blood 
has  stirred  this  night !" 

We  followed  him  slowly  out.  Somehow  the 
Baron  John  had  us  stilled.  For  his  lady's  fortune, 
in  her  defense,  he  had  played  his  absurdity,  but 
unsullied.  He  had  gone  bragging  through  the  world 


3o4  JOHN    THE    FOOL 

and  played  its  game,  buffeting  its  follies  with  follies, 
and  its  crimes  with  crimes,  but,  perhaps,  he  had 
kept  that  bright  old  blade  clean — at  least  for  her. 

In  the  hatchway  I  found  I  had  taken  his  hand. 
He  looked  down,  queerly  bright  of  eye  from  the 
blinding  sunshine. 

"Eh,  my  good  friend!  I  would  like  to  sit  again 
with  you  in  John-the-Fool  and  growl  over  our 
coffee  in  the  summer  heat ;  I  would  like  to  watch  the 
long  shades  fall  from  the  deep  swamp  out  across 
the  black  clear  water  while  you  and  I  moiled  over 
the  affairs  of  a  world  or  two  and  thought  nothing 
of  it !  You  have  been  much  to  me — but  it  is  ended 
now.  The  play  is  out,  the  pit  is  dug,  the  sword  is 
broken.  Isle  Bonne  is  yours  and  the  game  is  lost." 

Papa  Prosper  had  ambled  down  the  crazy  plank 
wharf,  greeting  Clell  and  Mary  with  unruffled  cour 
tesies.  Then  to  us  he  came,  and  like  two  ghosts 
out  of  the  past  he  and  the  baron  stiffly  acknowledged 
each  other. 

Papa  brushed  a  mosquito  from  his  ear  with  his 
month-old  newspaper.  "Ah,  messieurs,  dat  coffee  I 
mak.  Yo'  will  stop?  Isle  Bonne,  she  will  enter 
tain  yo'  wan  leetle  time  again.  Dis  leetle  white 
boat,  in  dis  shade,  she  stay.  Mademoiselle  Laure, 


The  thing  seemed  to   fascinate  him 


IN    THE    FACE    OF    FAILURE       305 

mebbe  fo'  breakfast  she  wake  up.  All  night  she 
weep  and  wondeh  ?" 

The  baron  was  waving  the  good  Prosper  on  with 
his  chatter. 

"Ah,  may  she  sleep !  Two  years  now  I  have  held 
the  vision  to  her — I  have  made  her  eyes  brighten 
and  her  laughter  come.  Victory — fortune — defeat, 
dismay  to  her  enemies — that  was  what  I  held  forth 
to  her,  and  now — even  last  night,  when  she  knew 
we  had  lost — she  loved  me." 

He  waddled  on  after  the  others,  in  out  of  that 
blinding  sun  of  the  mid-morning,  for  the  Gulf 
breeze  had  failed  us  now.  We  all  were  subdued 
enough;  I  think  it  was  that  gentle-eyed  Prosper  in 
his  bare  feet,  waving  us  courteously  to  seats  in  his 
grateful  shade  that  made  such  a  thing  as  belliger 
ency  toward  the  islanders  impossible.  And  as  for 
me — well,  I  could  not  help  thinking  of  Baron  John 
Bernal  de  Vedrinnes,  and  his  blade  lying  there  all 
broken,  soiled  by  the  dirty  hold  of  Allesjandro's 
lugger. 

The  old  knight's  roaring  was  done.  He  sat  below 
us  all  on  the  steps  to  Prosper's  gallerie,  his  pink 
medallion  profile  turned  and  a  trifle  bowed,  yet 
his  eyes  looking  from  under  their  shaggy  red 


306  JOHN    THE    FOOL 

brows  as  if,  out  of  the  island's  shadows,  old  fancies 
might  troop  to  hail  him.  So  still  it  was  that  the 
droning  of  the  bees  came  from  the  swamp  garden 
back  of  the  house,  the  patter  of  Prosper's  feet 
was  distinct  as  he  fetched  his  coffee  and  sugar ;  and 
afar  over  the  wooded  isle,  we  could  hear  the  faint 
whisper  of  the  surf  on  the  outer  reefs. 

Mary  was  deadly  tired  from  the  night's  adventure 
and  the  day's  hurricane  heat;  Clell  moodily  sitting 
below  her;  and  the  baron  and  I  were  busied  with 
our  thoughts. 

We  were  so  when  Virgil  at  last  came  out  of  the 
lugger's  cabin  hold  where  I  had  left  him  gazing 
quietly  into  that  ship's  chest  with  its  foolish  rub 
bish.  He  looked  up,  and  then  quietly  called  to  me. 

"Just  you,  Doctor  Dick,"  he  said,  and  went  below 
again. 

I  went  down  the  wharf  and  aboard  the  Good 
Child  to  where  the  Texan  sat  once  more  on  the 
broken  inner  casing  of  Armand  Drouillot's  cabin 
chest  from  the  wrecked  slave  ship.  The  thing  seem 
ed  to  fascinate  him. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

THE  KING  O'  SPAIN  SURRENDERS 

44"¥  A  7"ELL?"  I  said  after  watching  him  study  the 
Y  Y  lead  box. 

"Well,"  he  answered,  "do  you  think  we  ought  to 
win?" 

"Win?"  I  retorted.  "We  have  won.  Even  this 
ridiculous  matter  of  the  old  ship  and  the  digging, 
and  the  interference  with  your  work  and  scaring  of 
the  negroes  with  the  old  pirate  yarns  so  that  they 
desert  you — it's  all  done  now.  The  baron  admits 
it — the  rummy  old  chap.  He  knows  how  to  fight 
as  well  as  lose.  I  think  Laure  does  too — she'll  not 
have  any  great  flare-up  now — though  she  may  go 
away  with  a  breaking  heart,  when  it  comes  to  leav 
ing  Isle  Bonne.  She's  game  enough  to  lose  right." 

"That's  just  it.  The  greatest  fighters  are  the 
greatest  losers — that's  me,  Doctor  Dick.  And  also 
— you.  And  the  rest  of  us." 

"What  do  you  mean?"  I  answered  sharply,  for 
the  heat  in  there  was  stupefying. 

307 


3o8  JOHN   THE   FOOL 

For  answer  he  reached  in  his  khaki  pocket  and 
took  out  a  coarse  bundle.  There  were  papers  with 
a  skin  covering  apparently,  and  tied  with  fine 
leather  thongs,  and  the  whole  thing  had  been  rough 
ly  opened  and  then  put  together  hastily  as  if  in 
a  sort  of  panic  on  the  part  of  the  finder. 

"Just  this."  He  shook  out  the  long  rude  mass 
before  me.  I  made  nothing  of  it,  except  a  faded 
seal  stamped  on  it  twice.  The  writing  was  quite 
unknown  to  me. 

"I  can  read  Spanish — "  Virgil  went  on  evenly, 
"learned  it  in  Cannanea  where  I  ran  a  mine  fo'  seven 
years  fo'  a  Mexican  company.  This  is  a  whole  lot 
different — but  I  know.  Listen:  the  date  of  this  is 
1777 — and  the  seal  is  of  the  fourth  Spanish  viceroy 
of  Louisiana.  Look  here :  "Don  Bernardo  de  Gal- 
vez,  Pensonado  de  los  Realy  distmguada  orden  de 
Carlos  III,  Gobernador  y  Capltan  General  de  las 
Provincias  de  Luisiana  y  Florida  Occidental — "  The 
Texan  broke  off  solemnly:  "Doctor  Dick,  what's 
the  use  ?  It  goes  on  to  name  the  grant  given  to  Gas- 
pard  Drouillot  by  grace  of  the  king  of  Spain — and 
it  is  the  land  we're  standin'  on !" 

And  after  a  moment  he  murmured :  "That  little 
old  king — I  neve'  had  no  manneh  of  use  fo'  him — 
I  told  you  long  ago!" 


THE  KING  O'  SPAIN  SURRENDERS     309 

It  was  enough.  I  stared  at  him  but  spoke  quietly. 
"How  did  you  get  it?" 

"Kicked  this  pistol  box  to  pieces.  I  just  had  a 
curiosity.  The  old  chap  was  too  played  out  after 
his  fight  last  night  to  notice  much,  and  this  morn- 
in'  he  was  too  sorrowful.  He  just  quit  a  minute 
too  soon,  but  I  expaict  his  old  eyes  couldn't  see  what 
I  saw,  anyway.  All  the  time  he  talked  I  watched 
that  old  shiny  gun-box.  I  wouldn't  give  a  cent  for 
a  barrel  of  'em  as  guns;  but  I  noticed.  There 
were  two  compartments  in  that  case — one  under  this 
velvet  bottom.  I  saw  it  was  so  when  I  lifted  the 
guns.  And  it  was  locked,  but  soon  as  you  and  the 
old  boy  went  out,  I  broke  it.  There,  rolled  up,  as 
though  they'd  been  slapped  in  there  in  a  mighty 
hurry  were  these  papers — Laure's  grants — right 
from  the  king  o'  Spain.  I  sure  read  enough  fo' 
that!  Why  the  looks  of  it's  enough  to  scare  me!" 

"Yes  ?"  I  queried,  for  I  had  not  thought  as  fast 
as  he. 

"I  waited  till  you  all  got  out,"  he  continued. 

"Yes,"  I  repeated,  "not  a  soul  of  them  knows — 
not  a  soul  in  all  the  world,  except  you  and  me,  Vir- 

gil." 

His  troubled  smile  was  on  me.  "I  could  burn 
'em  here  on  the  cabin  flo'.  I  could  tear  'em  across 
and  drop  'em  ove'  and  in  an  hour  they'd  look  like 


3io  JOHN   THE    FOOL 

a  drowned  water-lily.  Sho'!  And  if  she  has  'em 
there's  no  two  guesses  at  it.  The  Prairie  Meadows 
Company — and  you  and  me,  and  every  one  in  it — 
is  busted.  There's  be  no  fight  in  it — we  couldn't 
go  back  on  these  grants — you  see  I  know.  The 
cou't  'd  reverse  the  case  in  fo'ty  minutes  when 
they  saw  these  first  records." 

"I  see."  The  slow  and  growing  brightness  of  his 
eye  did  not  deceive  me.  And  I  \vent  on  evenly  in 
what  must  have  been  a  taunt  to  him,  there  with  his 
wreck — fortune,  his  pledged  word,  his  reputation 
among  men, — the  fruit  of  his  eight  years'  fight  for 
himself  and  all  the  others :  "The  biggest  fighters  are 
the  biggest  losers — you  have  it  right,  Virgil." 

"What  would  you  do,  Doctor  Dick?" 

'Tm  not  saying.  I  won't  be  wholly  ruined  if  the 
land  company  blew  up  to-morrow.  Not  altogether. 
But  there  are  at  least  twenty  widows  and  poor  folks 
who,  one  way  and  another,  have  been  led  to  invest 
in  the  Isle  Bonne  lands  through  me.  Old  friends 
and  neighbors,  that  I  got  in — somehow,  because  you 
said—" 

"Don't — "  he  said.  "I  got  as  many  mo'!  I 
ain't  worryin'  about  those  New  York  fel-los.  The 
speculators  and  financiers ;  it's  the  little  ones  who — 
who — well,  they  been  pretty  patient  with  me — let 


THE  KING  O'  SPAIN  SURRENDERS     311 

me  vote  their  stock  so's  I  could  fight  the  big  fel- 
los  who  wanted  to  pull  out  all  the  time.  Yes,  seh — 
they  stood  by  me — trustin' — and  now — " 

He  looked  out  at  the  blue  quiver  of  heat  against 
the  cypress  isle — the  timber  alone  of  it  would  fight 
off  disaster  if  all  else  quit  him. 

"Well,"  he  muttered  briefly.  "I  wondeh  why  God 
made  me  find  it  ?  It  wouldn't  have  been  so  hard  on 
you — Doctor  Dick — or  Clell — or  anybody.  But  me 
— "  he  looked  out  and  up  the  dazzling  wharf  to  the 
high  silent  house:  "And  she — she's  asleep  in  the' 
— and  knows  she's  lost — yes,  seh — and  me — I'm 
walkin'  around  with  this  stuff  in  my  pockets.  Yes, 
seh — and  she  won't  compromise — she'll  go  away  a 
beggar  with  that  old  fool.  Yes — seh!  I  deviled 
him  fo'  fou'  years — but  now  he's  a  betteh  man  than 
I  am !  It's  how  a  man  loses  that  counts !  Anybody 
can  be  a  man  and  win!" 

Then  he  stood  up  and  put  the  papers  in  his  pocket. 
I  followed  him  out  and  under  the  awnings  of  his 
own  boat — the  gay  little  white  cruiser  with  her 
brasses  and  mahogany  cabin  that  he  had  bought  in 
his  first  exultance  of  victory  to  have  for  journeys 
"out  front"  to  the  city  in  the  busy  years  of  the  ex 
ploitation  and  selling  of  his  lands.  I  think,  when 
we  had  gone  down  in  that  cozy  cabin,  and  the  first 


3i2  JOHN   THE   FOOL 

stir  of  the  afternoon  breeze  which  foretells  the  Au 
gust  squalls  had  touched  the  silken  curtains,  that  it 
was  the  ironic  luxuriousness  of  the  Seabird  after  the 
dirt  and  grime  of  his  work  boats  all  these  years, 
which  first  drove  the  steel  of  failure  to  his  soul. 

He  laughed  mirthlessly  as  we  sat  across  the  table 
and  touched  the  ice-water  to  our  lips.  The  yellow 
boy  was  under  the  fore-awnings  rubbing  lazily  at 
the  brass-work.  And  the  gaunt  Texan  looked  out 
to  the  others  on  the  shade  of  the  gallerie. 

"The  big  losers,  Doctor  Dick!  Shucks,  the  old 
boy  is  right !  To-morrow,  I'll  stand  on  my  feet,  on 
the  corneh  of  Canal  and  Royal  Streets — and  I'll  owe 
the  Prairie  Meadows  Land  Company  two  hundred 
and  twenty-five  thousand  dollehs — and  I  won't  have 
the  price  of  a  shave,  when  I  pay  the  boy  here." 

I  had  to  watch  him  now — and  I  had  kept  my  face 
averted.  He  was  laughing  again  strangely,  like  a 
man  the  heat  had  touched.  Then  he  got  up  and 
struck  the  table. 

"Doctor  Dick,  will  you  go  send  her  down  here  ?  I 
cain't  go  face  'em  all.  I  wouldn't  know  how  to  talk. 
And  the  baron — the  old  boy — I  cain't  face  him, 
somehow.  But  Laure — the  grants  are  hers — I  ex- 
paict  I  must  pay  'em  right  into  her  hands.  And 
tell  her  we  quit — to-morry  I'll  jerk  the  dredges  out 


THE  KING  O'  SPAIN  SURRENDERS     313 

of  the  ditch,  wire  the  New  York  fel-los  to  get  a 
new  manager  to  pull  what  he  can  out  of  the  wreck — 
and  then  I'll  find  a  steameh  fo'  British  Honduras. 
I  know  a  fel-lo  minin'  down  the'.  You  just  watch 
me  some-a-time !"  Then  the  patient  smile  lit  his 
worn  eyes :  "I  can  fight — but  I  know  when  to  be 
licked.  The  baron — I  expaict  he's  been  just  livin' 
on  fo'ty  years  after  his  proper  time  to  tell  me  that. 
And  a  dog-gone  proper  knight  he  is !" 

"Tut — you!"  I  stuttered  at  him,  for  the  tears 
kept  to  my  eyes.  "I'm  telling  you  the  same — you 
beggar!  It's  her  island — how  the  mischief  could 
we  keep  it?" 

"Easy.  Just  a  match  to  these  documents."  And 
again  his  sad  humor  lit  him.  "Easy — and  that's 
what  makes  it  so  plumb  hard!" 

And  when  I  went  out  and  up  the  hot  wharf  to 
Papa  Prosper's  house,  I  could  still  hear  him  mut 
tering  in  his  little  white  cabin: 

"Easy — and  that's  what  makes  it  hard!" 

I  found  them  all  idling  about  in  Prosper's  chairs 
and  hammocks.  It  was  mid-noon  now,  August  in 
Louisiana,  without  the  Gulf  breeze;  and  that  is 
something  bad — when  the  sea  breeze  fails. 

The  tidal  lakes  northward  were  blue  burnished 
copper  again,  with  a  little  patch  of  feathery  bloom 


314  JOHN    THE    FOOL 

miles  away  where  our  incipient  wind  had  wandered. 
And  out  of  Isle  Bonne's  jungle,  the  stinging  sun 
found  way. 

Mary  hardly  stirred  her  weary  head  from  the 
hammock.  "I  wonder  what  is  next  ?"  she  murmur 
ed:  "Clell,  won't  you  fan  me  again — please?" 

He  had  been,  it  seemed,  even  after  Laure  had 
come  out  of  her  darkened  chamber.  She  had  re 
fused  a  chair,  and  now  sat  in  a  small  crumpled  heap 
just  in  the  shade  of  the  door.  All  eyes,  she  was, 
and  high  cheek-bones,  with  a  feverish  color ;  and  one 
hand  was  reached  down  to  the  baron's  shoulder, 
and  the  old  man  was  patting  that  and  talking  to  her 
in  the  Creole  patois  of  the  south  coast.  She  was 
listening  stonily  as  if,  in  him,  too,  her  faith  was 
breaking.  As  if  indeed,  he  was  no  more  the  roaring 
knight-errant  whose  words  could  people  a  world  of 
fancy,  but  a  crushed  old  man,  tired  and  depending 
on  her  for  solace. 

When  I  spoke  quietly  to  her  she  looked  up  but 
without  interest.  The  baron,  on  the  step  below, 
moved  a  bit  as  if  to  acknowledge  my  presence.  Clell 
and  Mary  regarded  me  with  the  tired  repose  of  the 
hot  noon;  it  had  been  a  bad  night  for  us  all,  and 
now,  besides  that,  there  seemed  a  great  sorrow 
brooding  over  all  this  brightness  and  this  shade — 


THE  KING  O'  SPAIN  SURRENDERS     315 

the  glitter  of  lake  and  sky,  the  depth  and  mys 
tery  of  the  flooded  forest  curving  about  Isle  Bonne's 
cove.  Silence,  and  every  one  too  weary  and  haunted 
by  an  unspoken  regret,  to  break  it. 

"When  is  he  going?"  Clell  muttered  to  me. 

"I  don't  know.  I  don't  know  anything.  Let 
him  be — he's  got  enough  just  now." 

And  though  they  knew  nothing  of  his  struggle 
at  the  last,  Clell  and  Mary  nodded;  it  was  the 
boss  again  who  would  have  to  determine  the  way; 
shoulder  the  load  over  the  peak  of  the  hill  for  us  all. 
I  turned  again  to  the  mistress  of  the  lost  isle. 

"Laure,  will  you  come  down  to  the  little  white 
boat?" 

She  shrugged  indifferently:  "I  have  seen  it, 
m'sieu — the  treasure.  Ah,  that  was  a  bitter  joke — 
my  old  kind  friend  is  heart-broken  with  it  all,  and 
I  can  not  find  a  word  to  comfort  him." 

Her  ragged  old  knight  was  patting  the  slim  hand 
he  held: 

"There — there — my  dear !  I  have  taken  too  many 
hard  knocks  of  fortune  to  mind  this.  It  was  you, 
little  Marquise — of  you  always  I  have  thought.  Out 
in  the  great  world  with  a  fortune — how  this  would 
have  pleased  you,  or  that;  the  Rue  de  la  Paix,  or 
the  boulevards  on  a  day  of  autumn  all  color  and 


316  JOHN    THE    FOOL 

brightness  and  motion;  or  perhaps  some  little  hat 
out  of  a  shop  of  wonders  that  would  have  made 
your  eyes  laugh — or  in  Italy,  where  the  blue  sea 
is  and  the  high  peaks  rise, — you  who  have  never 
seen  a  hill  would  have  felt  your  soul  dumb  before 
them!  Eh — little  Marquise!  The  glory  of  the 
world — that  is  what  I  would  have  spread  like  a 
silken  gown  before  you,  just  to  have  heard  your 
little  cries  of  wonder." 

She  bent  to  kiss  his  old  cheek  gravely :  "No  man 
can  speak  like  you,  dear  Baron — only  poets !  Never 
mind — there  may  be  wonders  still." 

So  she  came  down  the  creaky  old  steps  and  off  on 
the  wharf  in  a  small  defiant  gaiety;  but  I,  by  her 
side,  saw  she  would  not  look  back  for  her  tears. 

"Yes — yes" — she  whispered  to  me — "you  know, 
but  my  baron — he  must  not  know !  He  must  think 
I  am  happy  and  do  not  care !" 

So,  without  answer,  I  brought  her  into  the  cabin 
where  Virgil  sat  by  the  mahogany  table.  The 
sun  fell  through  and  upon  some  silver  things  there, 
and  the  purple  hyacinth  spikes  which  Mary  had  idly 
picked  up  as  they  trailed  along  our  course  through 
the  lake. 

She  looked  at  Virgil  silently,  and  then  sat  across 
from  him  with  an  air  of  indifferent  expectancy.  She 


THE  KING  O'  SPAIN  SURRENDERS     317 

had  lost  to  her  enemy,  and  there  was  probably  some 
form  or  rote  of  the  law  to  comply  with,  so  that  Isle 
Bonne  was  his  forever.  And  she  would  sign  or  give, 
or  whatever  it  was — she  had  got  through  fight 
ing  now,  when  Monsieur  le  Baron  with  his  sore 
heart,  said  it  was  useless. 

I  stood  in  the  doorway  to  the  engine-room  irre 
solutely.  Virgil  wanted  me,  I  knew,  but  I  did  not 
care  to  watch  it  all.  But  he  did  not  give  me  a 
chance  to  excuse  myself  and  get  away  gracefully. 
It  was  with  his  usual  blunt  sureness  that  he  spoke, 
waving  his  hand  briefly  to  the  ancient  documents 
upon  the  table. 

"Laure,  there  they  are — I  give  'em  back  to  you." 

Without  understanding,  she  reached  to  the  papers 
and  drew  them  toward  her,  about  to  read.  Then, 
with  her  elbows  on  the  table,  her  hands  to  her  cheeks, 
her  dark  hair  tumbling  about  her  brow,  her  long 
lashed  eyes  lowered,  she  was  intent  on  the  opening 
paragraphs  of  that  sonorous  and  high-sounding  pro- 
nunciamento  of  the  king  of  Spain. 

After  a  moment  she  looked  up  gravely;  her  bright 
eyes  on  the  Texan's  calm  face. 

"What  is  this  all,  m'sieu?  The  French  on  the 
margin,  I  know  well  enough,  though  it  is  queer. 
But  the  Spanish — I  do  not  know  much  of  that. 


3i8  JOHN    THE   FOOL 

Only — here  is  my  name" — and  she  lifted  the  papers 
from  their  leather  backing  and  shook  them  decisive 
ly:  "Bouligny  de  Drouillot — he  was  the  first  of 
us." 

Virgil  reached  a  finger  to  touch  the  paper  at  the 
bottom.  "That  is  his  signature — his  bond  to  per 
form  certain  things — and  in  return  they  gave  him 
— this !"  His  arm  went  in  a  sweep  out  to  the  forest 
isle.  "From  the  riveh  to  the  sea — and  four  hundred 
arpents  wide — that's  what  it  was  to  begin  with, 
Laure — the  land  you  had !" 

She  watched  him  silently.  Her  fingers  relaxed 
from  the  paper. 

"The  king  o'  Spain  didn't  do  things  in  a  small 
way,  Laure.  And  I — / — cain't  either,  some-a-way ! 
That  little  old  king — been  dead  a  hundred  and  fifty 
years — sho' — I  wish  he  could  know  how  I  gambled 
against  him — and  lost!" 

"M'sieu — "  Her  breath  was  rising  quicker.  "You 
mean — this — " 

He  watched  her  slim  fingers  clutch  the  paper 
nervously.  "Yes — just  that.  The  grants  that  the 
king  o'  Spain  gave  to  yo'  people,  Laure.  The 
papehs  that  the  Supreme  Cou't  gave  you  three  years 
to  find — and  you  couldn't — and  so  you  lost!" 

"What  are  you  doing  with  them  here  ?" 


THE  KING  O'  SPAIN  SURRENDERS     319 

"I  found  them  here — this  mawnin'.  That  old 
gun-case.  The  baron  was  too  dazed  afteh  his  fight 
to  find  anythin'.  I  found  them." 

"And  you  give  them  back  to  me?" 

He  was  silent,  his  lean  brown  face  impassive  in 
the  flicker  of  sun  through  the  screened  windows. 

"Why  do  you  give  them  back  to  me?" 

He  could  not  answer  that  either  to  her  growing 
persistence.  She  laid  the  ancient  grants  of  her 
marauding  fathers  down  and  looked  at  him.  "I 
don't  believe  I  would  if  I  had  been  you,"  she  mur 
mured:  "I  know  it  means  you  are  just  smashed 
forever — and  I  don't  believe  I  could  have  done  it,  if 
I  had  been  you." 

"Yes,  you  could.  The  baron  would — dog-gone 
him!" 

"Yes,  but  they  call  him :  John-the-Fool !" 

"Sho'l  And  he  taught  me  in  the  end,  I  reckon. 
He  cain't  be  any  bigger  one  than  me — when  it 
comes  to  playin'  the  game  square.  Why,  the  old  boy 
— I  neve'  knew  him  befo'!"  Virgil  laughed  brief 
ly:  "Why,  yesterday  I  wouldn't  a  give  fou'  bits 
fo'  all  the  old  knights  in  history — no  manneh  of 
use  fo'  'em!  Then  along  comes  this  old  boy,  and  I 
find  he's  played  straight  fo'  you  all  the  time.  Fo' 
you — and  he  cain't  get  ahead  of  me  at  tjiat!" 


320  JOHN    THE   FOOL 

She  was  silent  again,  looking  at  him  now  and 
then,  with  odd  and  puzzled  brightness,  as  if  unable 
to  follow  all  he  meant.  Then  she  reached  her 
hand  to  the  yellow  grants. 

"So  they're  mine.  Isle  Bonne — and  all  the  prairie. 
Just  like  they  were,  always." 

"Yes."  He  was  pushing  back  from  the  table,  and 
now  looked  at  me  with  his  shyly  serene  smile. 
"And  I  reckon  I  feel  betteh  now.  Cleaned  out, 
but  I  feel  betteh.  I'll  be  on  my  feet  and  fightin'  in 
a  month,  Doctor  Dick !" 

"Yes,  but — "  she  had  taken  a  step  between  him 
and  me,  still  holding  the  documents.  "All  you've 
done — the  canals,  and  the  pumping  station — every 
thing?" 

"I'm  sorry,"  he  muttered.  "I  cain't  put  yo'  woods 
and  prairie  back  like  it  was.  But  in  a  year — two 
years — the  Isle  Bonne  jungles  will  grow  ove'  the 
plant,  and  the  lilies — you  won't  find  a  ditch  fo' 
yo'  lilies,  Laure." 

"It  wasn't  always  so,"  Laure  answered  slowly. 
"Do  you  know  that  once  they  kept  the  sea  out,  and 
it  was  all  sugar  cane  and  rice  from  the  woods  to 
Bayou  L'Ourse?  And  groves  and  orange  trees 
• — Papa  Prosper  can  almost  remember — there  were 
little  children  playing  there !" 


THE  KING  O'  SPAIN  SURRENDERS     321 

He  was  looking  out  to  her  blue-green  woods,  and 
the  old  somber  sense  of  failure  came  on  him:  "I 
know.  That's  what  I  used  to  think — I'd  fight  the 
sea  back,  too.  You'  swamp  land — such  black  rich 
land — I  was  goin'  to  beat  you — and  then  sometime 
show  you — what  I  dreamed  of  in  the  beginnin' — 
the  little  farms  and  orange  rows  and  homes  they'd 
be — yes,  seh!  And  children,  too — I  could  'a'  made 
that  fo'  'em — hundreds  of  'em — thousands  of  'em 
— long  afteh  I'd  been  dead.  That  was  what  I 
dreamed  of — it  wasn't  the  money — any  fool  can 
make  money.  But  the  game — that  was  it.  To 
make  the  earth  richer,  and  some  homes  happier — 
afteh  you'd  gone  and  you'  game  with  you — that's 
the  man's  size  job  I  dreamed  of !" 

She  had  listened  to  his  exaltation  curiously.  "Was 
that  it,  m'sieu?  It  is  beautiful.  Messieur  le  Baron 
— why  even  my  old  knight,  he  could  not  talk  like 
that!" 

"It  wasn't  his  game — it  was  my  kind  of  game." 
He  looked  down  at  her  patiently:  "And  you  little 
thing — I  used  to  pity  you — you  wouldn't  listen  to 
reason  or  compromise — you'd  neve'  listen  to  me  at 
all.  Sho' — it  made  me  laugh — it  hurt  me  so!" 

He  was  laughing  strangely  as  he  came  aft  to  the 
engine-room.  I  went  ahead  to  make  way  for  him 


322  JOHN    THE    FOOL 

and  was  out  on  the  stern  deck  under  the  awnings 
when  I  heard  her  cry  to  him. 

"Wait!    You  mustn't— if  it  hurts  you  so!" 

He  had  turned  in  the  passageway,  his  brown 
crushed  hat  shading  his  face  from  me.  "I  cain't 
talk  to  you,  now — afteh  you  beat  me." 

"Why  don't  you  say  you  want  me  to  help  you?" 

"All  the  time,  I  reckoned  I'd  tell  you  mo' — when 
I'd  won.  Now,  you'd  think — because  I  was  beat 
— I  come  to  you  and  beg  fo'  compromise — to  fix  it 
up,  someway.  Well,  I  cain't — from  you." 

He  was  turning  from  her,  his  voice  at  the  nearest 
break  I  had  ever  known  in  the  man,  when  she 
came  and  was  at  his  side. 

"Here — here — "  I  heard  her  whisper :  "I'd  rather 
you  would  burn  them — than  to  hurt  you  so!  To 
have  you  feel  that  way — to  beg  of  me — of  me — 
when  all  the  time — all  the  time,  I  waited — won 
dered—" 

I  could  not  understand  her  clear  voice  further  for 
its  blurring  curiously.  "To  beg  of  me — "  she  went 
on.  "Mel  When  all  the  time  I  wasn't  trying  to 
hate  you."  Then  her  voice  was  lost  altogether,  and 
I  thought  it  was  muffled  against  his  gray  shirt;  for 
after  a  moment,  I  heard  him  whisper:  "You  mean 


THE  KING  O'  SPAIN  SURRENDERS     323 

that — you  little — ?  Why,  all  the  time  you  was  try  in' 
not  to  love  me — and  couldn't  make  it — go?" 

I  heard  the  ancient  grants  from  the  king  of  Spain 
fall  to  the  cabin  floor — from  about  the  height  of 
the  Texan's  shoulder.  Then,  as  I  reached  the  planks 
of  Papa  Prosper's  wharf,  purposely  making  a  noise 
so  that  they  would  know  I  was  hastening  away,  I 
heard  Laure  speaking  so  softly  that  I  did  not  know 
whether  it  was  a  whisper,  laughter  or  a  sob. 

"Messieur  le  Baron!  We  will  have  to  go  tell 
him  that  Isle  Bonne  has  found  another  knight  be 
sides  John-the-Fool !  A  real  knight  for  the  little 
homes  and  gardens — and  all  the  children  playing!" 

"A  fool  fo'  luck,"  he  murmured — "that's  me, 
little  Marquise!" 

I  went  on  up  the  gallerie  stairs  and  heard  Papa 
Prosper  within  puttering  about  his  charcoal  pot. 
Then  a  siren  whistle  afar  on  the  lakes,  Virgil's 
second  supply  steamer  coming  to  the  main  canal. 
Then  steps  behind  me;  and  I  discovered  that  the 
two  from  the  white  boat  were  following. 

"Well,"  I  said:  "since  you  are  here,  you  may 
as  well  tell  them." 

Laure  looked  at  her  fat  knight  who  was  sound 
asleep  in  the  shadow,  his  green  cap  with  the  rooster 


324  JOHN   THE   FOOL 

feather  fallen  quite  off  his  pink-gray  head.  She  was 
going  to  him  when  she  found  Mary  in  the  hammock 
and  Clell  on  a  low  seat  by  her,  holding  her  hand 
in  much  the  fashion  they  did  before  me  in  the  old 
days. 

"Ah,  I  always  thought,  rri'sieu,  that  somewhere 
nawth — there  was  a  lady !" 

"And  she  had  to  come  down  to  your  wilderness, 
my  dear,"  Mary  murmured,  "just  to  escape  from 
her  own — that  she  made  for  herself!  She  knows 
now?' 

Laure  had  reached  the  baron.  She  softly  drop 
ped  the  grants  from  the  king  of  Spain  down  upon 
his  hairy  bosom,  and  even  in  his  sleep  the  knight's 
fat  old  hand  closed  upon  them.  Clell  had  arisen 
to  stare  at  them  and  at  her — and  then  at  Virgil. 
There  was  no  mistaking  anything,  even  without 
the  Texan's  words  and  the  joy  in  his  eyes. 

"You  win— Virgil?"  Clell  muttered:  "Well, 
here,  old  chap!  I  made  good,  didn't  I?  And  the 
big  thing  is  that  Mary  knows!" 

I  turned  from  the  boss  and  his  lieutenant  grip 
ping  each  other's  hard  brown  hands.  Laure  was 
laughing  with  her  fingers  upon  the  sleeves  of  both. 

"Messieurs!    When  Messieur  le  Baron  awaken, 


THE  KING  O'  SPAIN  SURRENDERS     325 

I  shall  tell  him  I  have  got  the  last  one — they  have 
all  come  to  our  side! — to  assist  John-the-Fool !" 

The  fat  knight,  catching  a  phrase,  murmured  in 
his  sleep  again.  I  listened : 

"Ah,  Marquise — you  should  have  seen  the  one  I 
was — when  I  was  twenty!" 


THE  END 


A     000128195     5 


